


We Called Them Monsters

by panaceaa



Category: South Park
Genre: Bounty Hunter Kyle is confused, Character Death, Cyborg Kenny is adorable, Kind of Post-Apocalyptic, M/M, Phone Destroyer AU, Romance, k2challenge18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panaceaa/pseuds/panaceaa
Summary: Following in the footsteps of his father who is the top bounty hunter the town has ever known, Kyle is well aware of where his path lies in life. Of course, his latest target happens to be a cyborg with eyes like the sky who giggles through the smeared ash on his cheeks.It really doesn’t take long before Kyle finds himself questioning everything.





	1. The Deal

It’s midday over the desolate terrain that existed outside the town’s walls.

The sun is burning bright in the sky, the rays scorching what little grass that there was sprouting up between the dry dirt and cracked stone.

Kyle sighs from where he’s perched on a large boulder. Kicking lightly at a stone, he watches it falls about a hundred feet to the ground below. It lands with a puff of soot, the stupid particles that covered everything around here due to the damn volcano that towered overhead.

Still, despite the shitty atmosphere, sometimes he was a bit envious of the robotic creatures that got to live out here. Got to live their days just walking along the cracked ground that seemed to go on forever, never having to worry about their future or people’s expectations. Sure, maybe they were inhuman-mindless killing machines who were being endlessly hunted down in an attempt to try to make things safe for humanity again...

But at least they were free.

His sensor beeps, altering him that the signal he’d been tracking was rapidly approaching his location.

Looking up, he sees a humanoid form moving towards him on the horizon, and with a half relieved and a half tired sigh he stands and pockets his phone.

It was about fucking time.

He jumps from the bounder, turning on his jetpack just before he hits the ground to lighten his fall.

Just as he’d planned, his target stops in its tracks as it regards him with a dead expression.

This time the creature is distinctly feminine. Small, with short black hair and a bright yellow shirt. Innocent looking enough by any standard, which was exactly what they wanted you to think moments before they would reach into your chest and pull out your heart with a blank expression. He might have even confused it as a normal human girl if it wasn’t for the soulless black eyes and the distinctive beeping of his tracker which served as a constant reminder.

His hand drops to his gun resting at his side.

Fucking robots.

“And just who do you think-”

“Kyle Broflovski. Bounty hunter,” he says a moment before he pulls his gun out and shoots.

Her shoulder instantly erupts in a series of sparks as smoke pours out from the prominent hole. She looks at it in surprise. Then she turns her narrowed eyes back on him.

“Oh, you’re going to regret that.”

Kyle smirks.

This was where things got interesting. The spike of adrenaline. The tactical calculations. Like a game of chess. A really, really deadly game of chess.

She lunges.

He instantly puts his jetpack to use, planning to take to the sky and fight as he usually did.

But he miscalculated.

She was fast. One of the fastest he’d ever seen, and he’d seen a hell of a lot of robots. Grabbing his leg before he can get away, she slams him back down to the ground. He curses, the wind successfully knocked out of him and rendering him immobile as he attempts to get his bearings back.

She grins down at him. Maniacal and horrific. The wires poke out of her wounded shoulder. Her soulless eyes glow red. The glint of the knife in her raised hand reflects the harsh sunlight.

Shit.

Moving on instinct, he contorts his body to protect his heart and is rewarded by the agonizing pain of a knife being jammed into his upper arm. With a startled gasp at the sudden influx of pain, he falls back to the ground with the force of it.

Above him the robot laughs, a harsh and mocking sound that fuels something deep within him,

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, throwing the robot off of him and rolling to his feet. He tears the knife from his arm, gritting his teeth at the crippling pain that seems to travel throughout his entire body at the action, and throws it as far as he can. As the robot gets to her feet, she watches her weapon fly off with a blank expression before turning her dead eyes back to the gun suddenly pointed at her face.

“Not so funny now, is it?”

“Fuck y-”

The bullet going through her neck at close range cuts off anything she was about to say.

Curling his nose up at the now motionless robot on the ground, Kyle takes out his own knife and kneels down next to it. Placing the blade at the edge of her skull, he grimaces as he presses down and begins to reveal the mess of liquid covered wires layered beneath.

Time to get to work.

***

“Well if it ain’t Gerald’s boy!”

Kyle’s welcomed back to the tavern in the normal way he’s gotten used to over the years and he rolls his eyes and tries his best to ignore the familiar spark of anger that hits him. It’d be nice to be called by his damn name every once in a while. You know, like he was a fucking person.

“Back so soon?” Skeeter the tavernkeep says as he approaches the counter.

Before Kyle can even respond, the voice of the guy sitting at the bar beside him speaks up. “Yeah, must be nice having a jetpack that your daddy bought ya.”

The two men snicker and Kyle ignores them, throwing his latest target’s programming chip on the bar. Skeeter gives it a look, picking it up and wiping some of the blood still covering it off with a rag, before placing it under the scanner.

On the screen behind them, a name pops up as well as a ranking and the reward amount.

“Leslie-2341,” the tavernkeep reads, nodding and inserting a checkmark into the system to mark it as completed. He reaches under the counter and pulls out a small bag of coins. “Nice work kid, here ya are.”

Kyle nods, reaching for the money with his good arm and pocketing it. “Thanks,” he says as he goes to leave, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Unfortunately, the guy sitting at the bar wasn’t done with him yet.

“What’s that on your arm?” He asks, shoving a fat finger in Kyle’s direction.

Kyle glances down and with mute horror he realizes that the blood has seeped through his heavy coat. He probably should have stopped home first, dammit.

The man gives a hearty laugh that makes Kyle really want to punch him. “Oh, did the little robot girl cause a problem for you?”

Kyle bristles, directing his glare at the smug looking bounty hunter before him.

“No, she didn’t,” he bites out slowly. “It was a lucky hit.”

“I’m sure it was,” the amused man says with a mocking little grin before nudging the guy next to him with his elbow. “Those C level bounties sure can be a handful, can’t they?”

His friend snickers.

Nails carving sharp little lines into his palms Kyle lowers his tone in the most threatening way he can manage. “You implying something?”

“Nothing at all.” The man says, looking at Kyle as if he was a small puppy growling around his feet. The bastard. “Hey kid, tell your old man I was lookin’ for im’.”

And with that, he turns away.

“Yeah, whatever,” Kyle mutters, before resuming his way out of the stupid tavern.

Although he doesn’t make it more than a few steps before he’s stopped by a gentle hand on his arm. Looking at the young serving girl in front of him his anger instantly vanishes and he offers her a smile.

“Hey, Karen.”

“Hey Kyle,” she says with a small little smile of her own. “Look, just ignore them, okay?”

With a sharp exhale and a shake of his head, Kyle shrugs. “Thanks but I’m kind of used to it by now.” He pauses, remembering something. “Oh, but here.”

Reaching into his pocket he hands her the bag of coins he’d gotten from the bounty. He didn’t really need it anyway, living at home as he was. Besides, he knew most of the assholes in this place didn’t tip and Karen had confessed to him before that she and her brother were barely scraping by.

She looks at the bag of coins in surprise before she tries to hand it back to him. “But I didn’t wait on you today-”

Kyle gently pushes it back to her.

“Well consider this payment for a day I forget to tip you.”

“You never forget to tip,” she says with knowing yet grateful smile, as she finally puts the bag into the pocket of her uniform.

“Yeah, well it’s always good to plan ahead.” He winks, knowing he’s terrible at it and probably looks ridiculous; yet, does it anyway because he knew it always amused her. “Just in case.”’

As he’d expected, she giggles.

“Thanks, Kyle,” she tells him.

***

“I’m just so tired of it, you know?” Kyle bemoans to his friend, throwing yet another pebble over the top of the wall. “No matter what I do they just act like I’m some stupid kid.”

Stan pushes some of his pile of stones over to him, like the best friend he was, and slowly shakes his head.

“Dude, you’re the youngest bounty hunter this town has. No one else could have gotten their license as young as you did. You worked hard as hell for it and it paid off. Just ignore the assholes, they’re probably just jealous.”

“No, they’re not,” he grumbles, throwing a stone as far as it would go. “They just think my dad helped me get through training, but he fucking didn’t. Every time I passed a test or did something I was proud of he just sat there and said it was because I was his son, and not because I had actually worked my fucking ass off.”

“Seriously?”

“That’s all anyone ever says,” Kyle mutters, voice several degrees of bitter.

“That’s fucked up, dude,” Stan says looking at him with sympathy. “But I’m sure things will work out, you’re only twenty, you’ve got years to prove them all wrong.”

Kyle knew he was right, it’s what he kept telling himself after all. Still, it didn’t make dealing with it any easier.

“I’d just rather do it sooner rather than later, you know?”

“Yeah, but you’re just going to have to give it time.”

Kyle nods, but doesn’t say anything. Just turns his gaze back to setting sun on the horizon.

One of the best things about being best friend’s with one of the town guards was the chance to sit up on the wall of the town. It wasn’t exactly permitted, but Kyle was known enough around town from his father to be trusted, and all the other guards liked him well enough not to go and complain.

Which thereby gave Kyle access to the wall, or as he liked to call it, the best viewpoint in town. A chance to look outside the damn cliff overhang that their town was nestled under, and out at the expanse of outside world. The volcano raining down soot and ash a little ways away. The overgrown grass that was colored a dark brown and heavy with soot, yet still blew slightly in the breeze. A horizon that went on forever. Infinite possibilities. Every path leading farther away from this shit town.

If he was being honest, Kyle used to want to be a guard. The freezing technology they used was powerful beyond belief, yet the rest of the citizens weren’t allowed to so much as touch the stuff. And that included bounty hunters. It was tragic, really.

That being said, the guards couldn’t leave the town’s walls. That was a right reserved almost exclusively to bounty hunters. He probably should count himself lucky, he sometimes wondered how people like Stan lived like that.

He’s about to ask Stan if he’d ever wanted to leave the town when, without warning, a sharp pain shoots up his arm from where he’d been stabbed earlier. Curling into himself, he sharply inhales, gritting his teeth as he waits for it to pass.

Once it finally does, he notices Stan looking at him in concern.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathes, voice still a bit unsteady, “it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He reaches under his coat sleeve to adjust the makeshift bandage he’d fashioned out of an old t-shirt and to his annoyance the shirt is distinctively wet. Well, shit. He’d have to rebandage it when he got home. Withdrawing his hand from his jacket, he looks at his fingers shiny with blood and curls up his nose at the sight before wiping it off on his pants.

When he glances back at his friend, he notices his eyes have gone wide and his face has paled. Kyle gives him a look, daring him to say something.

“Dude, your arm. Maybe we should get Butters-”

“It’s fine.”

“Kyle-”

“I said it’s fine!” He snaps, crossing his arms while making sure to be careful with the injured one. “I can deal with it.”

Stan just sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

***

The next morning, Kyle walks into the tavern to pick up his next assignment, only to be greeted by the sight of a large group gathered around a table and the sound of hearty laughter.

He scrunches his nose up distaste, he always hated when his father was here.

Trying his best to make it over to the counter unnoticed, he hears the telltale signs of his dad bragging. Telling embellished stories of his fights and kills that Kyle has heard said over the dinner table far too many times. His mother nodding along and Ike ignoring them all in favor of having his head down in his notes as he scribbled down equations while he ate. Last Kyle asked he was trying to figure out a way to clone himself. Weird kid.

Lost in thought, Kyle doesn’t realize he’s been spotted until there’s a large man looming over him with a distinct sneer slapped on his face.

Kyle scowls, looking past him at the counter that was now only a few steps away, So close, yet so far.

“Hey kid, you ever think you’ll be as good as your father?”

Before Kyle can even open his mouth to answer, there’s another voice speaking up from somewhere in the room.

“I think he could,” the voice calls, “long as his dad here keeps giving him those trade secrets.”

“What can I say,” his father says with a feigned sigh and distinct haughty tone. “I have to make sure the fame stays in the family.”

Kyle shoots an incredulous look at his father.

He had never once done anything to help him. Not _once_.

Every-fucking-thing he did, he’d done by his own sweat and tears.

“You’re agreeing with them?” The hurt in his voice must show because his father looks away from his friends and seems to regard him somewhat seriously.

“You’re a big boy, Kyle.” He says after a moment, “If you want to prove otherwise, go ahead. The floor’s open.”

Kyle hears the words but he can’t believe them. All eyes are suddenly on him, watching, waiting.

He feels a whole lot like screaming.

In a split decision, he shoves past the man in front of him and stomps over to the tavernkeep with a snarl. “K3NN-14,” he states loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. An S level bounty. More than that, _the_ S level bounty. The infamous cyborg that not even his father had been able to bring in.

The tavernkeep’s eyes grow wide and he shakes his head, “You know I can’t give that one to you yet.”

Kyle stands firm. “Just give me the fucking coordinates, Skeeter.”

Skeeter’s eyes suddenly drift over his shoulder, and he knows just who has stood up without turning to look.

“Don’t be an idiot, Kyle,” his father says.

“I can do it.” He makes sure to keep his tone hard and emotionless, even as his nails dig into the wood from where he’s gripping onto the counter. “Let me prove it.”

“Aww, let him have his fun, Gerald.” Kyle doesn’t know who says it, but it doesn’t matter. “Kids gotta learn his lesson somehow.”

Kyle doesn't move, but he watches for Skeeter’s reaction, and he knows by the tavernkeep’s sharp inhale and sudden hurried typing at the keyboard that his father has given his consent. He takes a deep breath. It’s what he wanted and yet his throat is tight as if his anger is the only thing keeping him from crying. Yeah, fucking cry. That’d get people to take him seriously alright.

“Alright,” Skeeter says after another moment. “Your tracker is now tracking its programming chip.” He looks up, gaze the most serious Kyle had ever seen him, which is saying something. “But this isn’t your normal robot, kid. You probably know this from your dad, but we ask that you bring cyborgs in alive. We need them for questioning since who knows what the hell they’re getting up to out there.”

Kyle nods in answer, and finally turns to face his father and the amused faces of the rest of the bounty hunters who have nothing better to do than watch the fucking show. Well, good, let them watch.

“Cyborgs aren’t like robots, Kyle,” his father says to him, in what Kyle supposes is an attempt at some last fatherly advice. “They look and act human, so they’re smart, but you can’t let them fool you. Underneath they’re just like all the rest. Monsters.”

Kyle’s nails dig into his palms. He took the damn tests and aced them all, he was damn tired of everyone acting like he knew nothing.

“Yeah, I _know_.”

His father gives him a stiff nod before sitting back down at the table with his friends, not sparing another glance at his son.

“Your boy’s got spirit, Gerald.” One of them says with a hearty laugh, “Gotta give him that.”

“Yeah,” Gerald responds casually, “takes after his dad. Hell, with my blood he might even be able to find him.”

And when Kyle stomps out of the tavern, thoroughly unnoticed, they’re still fucking laughing.

***

Kyle is still seething by the time that his tracker indicates he’s almost on top of his target.

Normally flying was somewhat relaxing to him, and he always usually prided himself in his ability to herd and trap his targets so that they were unable to run.

But not this time.

As he flies, ash continuously falls from the sky like snow, causing a gritty film to cover the glass of Kyle’s mask that only smears particles across it everytime he goes to wipe it off. It was really pissing him off. Fucking volcano. This place was such a shithole. He just wanted to get this done as quickly as possible. The faster the better.

His sensor releases a loud beep, and he looks down to see what appears to be a boy about his age with metal lining his shoulders, an orange jacket tied around his waist, and complete obliviousness as he walked along the ground below.

Apparently, this was his target.

Showtime.

Turning off his tracker, Kyle pockets it and takes out his gun, more for a threat he supposed then anything since he couldn’t actually shoot it this time. Not that his target knew that. Working the controls on his jetpack, Kyle quickly dives down and lands directly in front of him.

His target curses and almost falls backwards, as if startled by his sudden appearance. On closer inspection, he doesn’t really look like most robots Kyle has come across; although, he never before met a cyborg. His eyes are bright and full of emotion, so unlike the lifeless and dull eyes he was used to. Yet unlike robots that liked to hide their wires under the skin, he wore what looked like a half suit of mechanical armor across his shoulders, linking wires across the upper half of his body that connected to things that were either ports in his armor or his actual body. Kyle honestly couldn’t tell.

“Shit, dude,” the cyborg interrupts Kyle’s thoughts with a slightly nervous little laugh as he finally seems to shake off his initial surprise and straightens. “A little warning next time before you decide to drop from the sky?” He pauses before his eyes flash with something distinctly mischievous. “Oh! Or is this maybe part of your pickup line?”

Kyle blinks, lips parted in preparation for his normal introduction now halted in his utter bafflement, routine completely thrown off.

“...What?”

“You know, like, hey babe,” he offers a smarmy little smile, “I hope you like angels because I dropped from heaven just to find you.”

For a moment Kyle can do nothing except stare at him. He really wasn’t sure what was more startling, the cyborg’s sudden giggle fit or the fact that he was making jokes. Referencing religion no less. This...didn’t usually happen.

“I’m uh, Kyle Broflovski,” he says awkwardly, attempting to get this thing back on track. “Bounty hunter.” He almost forgets to lift his gun, and ends up bringing his arm up so quickly to fix his mistake that it ends up not even remotely pointing at his target and he has to take a moment to adjust it. Dammit.

Meanwhile, the cyborg wore an expression that almost seems disappointed at his words.

“Look,” he sighs. “Just go home. Fighting me never ends up well for anyone.”

Kyle’s pride takes a hit and his eyes narrow.

“I’m not weak.”

“What? I never said you were-”

“You don’t think I could beat you in a fight.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. You look very capable, but-”

“Then why won’t you fight me?”

“That’s what I’m _trying_ to explain!”

Rather unfortunately for the poor cyborg, he’s been fighting the urge to punch someone the entire day and he needs a damn outlet. This will just have to do. With a slight growl, Kyle steps up to the small blond and tries to punch him, the cyborg gracefully sliding out of the way before it can land.

“Dude, what the hell?!"

In answer, Kyle just mutters a curse under his breath and attempts punching him again.

The cyborg ducks underneath his arm.

He attempts again.

The blond winks before literally spinning out of the way.

What the hell? Kyle’s chest is heaving with exertion and the cyborg doesn’t even seem winded, if anything he’s only growing more amused as their little dance went on. The ash keeps landing over Kyle’s mask and it’s really starting to piss him off. With a growl Kyle grabs the edge of the damned thing and tears it off, tossing it to the ground. If he got ash in his eyes, whatever. He’d deal with it later.

Stepping out of the way of another punch, the cyborg looks at his revealed face with surprise.

“Huh, you’re a little young to be a bounty hunter, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, cyborg.” Kyle growls, still trying to land a single damn hit. “What the hell would you know?”

“Oh nothing.” Another graceful dodge. “Just I’m used to being attacked by older men.” A sidestep and a wink. “This is a much more pleasant experience, just saying.”

“Oh my god! Would you stop with the fucking witty-ass banter and just _fight_ me!”

Kyle realizes too late that it was the wrong thing to say.

The blond gives him a shit-eating grin. “So, you admit I’m witty.”

“Just fucking die!” He snarls, movements getting less precise as his agitation boiled to an all-time high and exhaustion began to set in. It didn’t help that his dominant hand was all but useless thanks to his injury and was essentially being used as a buffer.

“No can do, sorry.” The blond shrugs, looking not at all sorry. “Even if you were trying to actually kill me, which you’re not.”

“I’m getting more and more tempted to!”

The cyborg giggles. “You’re cute.”

Kyle fumbles. “I am not cute!” He retorts and instantly hates how high pitched his voice comes out. He coughs. “I am a deadly and respected bounty hunter!”

The cyborg’s eyes sparkle. “Oh, I’m sure you are, darlin’.”

Caught off guard by the use of the pet name and the cyborg’s surprisingly pretty eyes, Kyle pauses his assault just long enough to give the cyborg an opening.

The blond sweeps in close. Bright blue eyes behind blond lashes. The hint of a smirk on full pink lips. Soft looking skin, and a vibrancy unmatched by any human he had ever met.

Ethereal.

His smirk widens a moment before Kyle is suddenly on the ground. Eyes wide and chest heaving, heart pounding an unmatched tempo. The blond puts his hands over his mouth and giggles from where he stands looking down at him. But it’s not a mocking sound, instead the sound is as real and true as Kyle has ever heard.

“It’s Kyle, right?” The cyborg says almost gently as his giggle fit comes to a slow. Thoroughly unhinged, Kyle can do nothing but nod. “Well Kyle, I’d suggest just going home. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

That strikes something in him, and Kyle instantly sits up. “You don’t understand,” his voice cracks as he says it, and he hates how desperate he sounds. How much he sounds like a fucking whiny kid. “I _need_ to bring you in.”

However, instead of laughing, the cyborg stops his retreat and regards him thoughtfully for a moment.

“Why?”

It’s a simple enough question, but Kyle has no intentions of pouring his heart out to a half-mechanical being who he’s supposed to be hunting. So, he can’t tell him how he can’t imagine walking back into that tavern empty handed. Looking at his smirking father and listening to the mocking laughter of every damned person in the place.

Not that he’d even understand it if he did.

So, Kyle just slightly bows his head and answers, “I just need to.”

It’s not actually an answer, Kyle is well aware of that, yet the cyborg seems to think on his words as if it was. Arm throbbing in pain and tired of fighting, Kyle just stares up at the blond as he stares back at him as if searching for something. Somehow, eventually he must find whatever he was looking for, because the cyborg smiles and slowly takes a step towards him. Reflexively, Kyle's hand drifts towards where his gun sits at his side, but the cyborg only drops down to kneel in front of him.

“Alright, well if it’s that important to you,” he says easily, tone light and casual. “Here.” The cyborg holds out his hands, metal gloved palms facing up.

Kyle trains his gaze slowly from his offered hands to his bright blue eyes and the gentle tilt to his lips. He flickers his gaze again, brows furrowing in confusion.

“What?”

“Take me to your leader, or whatever the hell I’m supposed to say in this situation.” He shrugs, a casual and easy motion. “I’m forfeiting.”

In response, Kyle just shakes his head. He eyes him skeptically, knowing nothing like this was ever freely given. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to,” the blond says gently. “At least not yet. Just know that I’m willing to help you.”

“What are you getting from this?”

“Shit dude,” the cyborg says in clear exasperation, “what’s this an honor thing or something? Look, you live in South Park, right? Well there’s something there that I’m looking for,” he shrugs, “I figure you could be my ticket in.”

“You do realize I’m capturing you, right?”

“I do.”

He meets his eyes. It’s a risk, Kyle knows this as well as anything. He was raised on the knowledge that anything robotic should by no circumstance be trusted, and that the half-machine before him was either waiting for the perfect moment to stab him in the back or a way to infiltrate their town. Not that Kyle would let him, but that had to be what he was planning.

Right?

But as Kyle stares at him, he can’t find a single trace of malice. Nothing that would suggest ill intentions, or anything besides the soft curiosity lining his eyes as he waited for Kyle’s decision.

Kyle reaches into his pocket and takes out the two metal rings. The cyborg doesn’t so much as flinch as he slips them over his gloved hands or even when they instantly come to life using the freeze-technology South Park was known for.

And so, their deal was sealed.

Kyle rises to his feet, and grabs his gun and pockets it. The cyborg doesn’t move, just watches him until Kyle leans down to help pull him to his feet. Once standing, Kyle eyes his form as he thinks. Luckily the blond was small, a short and skinny little thing. It shouldn’t be-

“Like what you see?”

His thoughts are interrupted by the blond who had gone to smirking at him, wiggling his hips a little.

Kyle glares and shoves his mask back over his head to hide the redness he knows is creeping onto his face. “No.”

The cyborg giggles, but thankfully doesn’t add anything else to that nature. Instead he just tilts his head in a way that Kyle might have called cute if he wasn’t a deadly cyborg. “I’m Kenny, by the way.”

Kyle nods but doesn’t respond, kind of hating how the name only made him seem more human. Instead, he just walks up to him and leans down to get into a position to pick him up.

“Okay, all kidding aside,” Kenny says as he laughs somewhat nervously at Kyle’s odd positioning, “what the hell are you doing?”

“I need to carry you,” Kyle explains right before he goes to lift him.

Of course, the moment he does a sharp pain shoots down his injured arm and he steps away clutching it to him. Feeling as if he just ripped the wound open again he squinches his eyes shut and grits his teeth, taking several deep breaths as the initial wave of pain passes.

“You’re injured,” the blond says, that weird concern settled in his gaze once again.

He shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he gasps.

“Dude, you know if you want I could-”

“I said I’m fine!” He snaps, causing Kenny to slightly recoil. Kyle takes a deep breath, looking out at the horizon and the town that was but a speck somewhere in the distance. “We’re just going to have to walk back.”

“Uh yeah...wait, did you seriously expect to fly us both back on that little jetpack?”

Kyle blinks.

“Yeah.”

“Dude.”

“Look,” Kyle crosses his arms, wincing at the pull the action has on his injury. “I don’t usually bring people back alive. I didn’t really think this through.”

“I’ll say,” Kenny says with a roll of his eyes, before gesturing forward with a tilt of his head. “Well, then lead the way, oh great captor.”

With an eye roll of his own, Kyle does as he’s told and together they start their journey back.


	2. Hard Truths

They walk in relative silence for a while. Well, relative meaning that Kenny kept pointing out meaningless things, like _oh Kyle didn’t we pass that rock already_? And _Kyle, you do realize that I live out here and know about a million better ways we could go_? And _oh great captor, will you please just let me lead_?

Kyle ignores him.

Shoots him a glare every once in a while, but other than that just pushes him forward so that the cyborg never leaves his line of sight. And he just continues to stomp onward across the desolate ash covered terrain. At least the blond seemed so concerned with his navigational abilities that he had toned down on the witty banter. That was a plus.

Of course, Kyle really didn’t have any clue where he was going. They were days away from town, and he had been so furious when he’d been flying out here that he hadn’t paid much attention to the land in favor of blindly following the beeping of his sensor. In hindsight, probably hadn’t been one of his best moments. Didn’t help that he always depended on flying, and going places on foot definitely had a lot more variables.

Which he learns rather quickly.

“So,” Kenny says slowly, shooting him a look from where they both stood peering over the edge of a giant cliff, “are you planning on fixing your arm, getting a bigger jetpack and then flying us over there? Or did you just want to see the view?”

Kyle just glowers at him.

Still...

He lets Kenny lead after that.

And as the cyborg leads Kyle across the terrain he tells him about his plan. Something about heading to the river and following it until it came to a waterfall. Then they would then turn and follow a trail until they came up along the eastern side of the town. A few days journey from where they were. It was a long route, but it was the only way to get on the other side of the cavern...as he had been trying to point out the entire time Kyle had been leading them.

Kyle doesn’t respond, just listens as they walk. And eventually Kenny takes them to the edge of the forest, dry sooty ground meshing with grasses and trees that towered into the sky.

Abruptly coming to a halt, Kyle stares up at the sudden wall of trees, half awed and half terrified.

_“Promise me you won’t go into the forests, Bubbe?”_

The forests were known to be dangerous, and Kyle had heard stories of creatures three times the size of any human that would jump from the undergrowth with claws the size of kitchen knives. In fact, his jetpack had been given to him by his mother with the very intention to keep him out of the forests. His main advantage in hunting becoming useless under the intense foliage and blanket of tree branches blocking out the sky. It’s why he was taught to lure his targets out by whatever means necessary, most of the time anyway. It was something his father had initially scoffed at, yet had agreed to in the face of the potential fury of one Sheila Broflovski.

“What’s the matter?” Kenny calls to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. The blond had turned around at the tree line as if waiting for him, a playful little smirk in place. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“No!” Kyle answers vehemently, pushing down his apprehension and stomping over to join the blond at the tree line.

Kenny looks at him with a distinct snicker before he continues into the trees with Kyle at his heels.

As they walk Kyle reaches up and takes off his mask, the constantly blowing ash from the volcano no longer a problem now that they were under the cover of the trees, and hooks it onto his belt. And with his face now freed he looks up at the wind shaking the branches high above them and frowns.

“They’re not going to break, right?”

“Uh, no. Not usually,” Kenny answers him, confusion clear in his tone. “You’ve never been in a forest before?” Tearing his gaze from the branches overhead, Kyle looks at him to see that the cyborg is looking at him with something almost soft in his expression.

“I’ve read about them,” Kyle answers honestly, too awestruck to remember that he’s not supposed to be having normal conversations with the cyborg. “It’s...bigger than I expected.”

“Know what else is bigger than you’d expect?” Kenny says without missing a beat, and then giggles at the death stare Kyle gives him. “Okay, but really, the forest is pretty dangerous. Just because it’s pretty doesn’t mean you should let your guard down.”

“My guard’s never down,” Kyle says before as if on cue, he trips on some kind of root thing sticking up in the ground. “What the hell?!” He curses, pushing Kenny off who had reached out with his still bound hands in an attempt to steady him.

Not a moment later Kenny laughs, a sly grin sliding into place.. “Some might say-”

Kyle looks at him sharply.

“Don’t.” he warns.

Kenny’s grin widens.

“-You walked right into that one.”

“Oh my god!”

Kyle marches ahead to the sounds of Kenny’s giggling.

Then he remembers he’s supposed to be watching the stupid comedian of a cyborg so that he doesn’t run away and is forced to awkwardly wait for the blond to catch up. He does so easily. Practically gliding across the foliage, feet barely making a sound while Kyle sounded as if he was breaking every twig and branch underfoot.

“Almost forgot you liked looking at my ass while we walked?” He jibes as he goes to walk past him.

“Shut up, I’m not looking at your ass.”

“Alright, whatever you say. But don’t you worry darlin’,” he looks over his shoulder with a wink, “I can put on one hell of a show.”

When he moves forward there is a distinct sway to his hips as he walks, and Kyle can’t help but be entranced by the motion before he regains his senses and stomps after him with a quiet snarl.

Stupid seductive cyborg.

***

The forest is beautiful. It’s unlike anything he has ever seen, so much more than anything he’s ever read. It reminds him of stories of earth, plant life and jungles filled with an expanse of creatures.

Several times he stops to inspect a particularly strange looking plant, or to admire the light filtering through the trees, and although the cyborg always gives him a knowing look, he doesn’t say anything about it. Just waits until Kyle resumes following after him. Kyle supposes he should be thankful for small miracles.

The cyborg doesn’t say much at all actually. Instead, as they walk through the forest Kenny occupies himself by singing of all things. Not loudly, just barely muttered lyrics that are intermingled with soft humming. Kyle tries not to listen, because he really shouldn’t care, but the sound is almost peaceful, relaxing. A few times he even thinks he recognizes the melody, but never comments on it. Just follows after his captive-turned-tour-guide in silence.

Eventually, when the light starts fading from beyond the branches of the trees, they stop and make camp by the river. As Kenny’s hands are still bound he’s essentially useless in setting things up, and so he just sits on the ground while Kyle makes a fire, low whistling or making a comment every single time he bends over.

“Would you stop checking out my ass!” Kyle snaps eventually, to which the blond simply doubles over in a giggle fit.

Not that it discourages him.

A lot of cursing and muttering to himself later, Kyle finally has everything set up and settles next to Kenny at the fire. Exhausted beyond belief, he slumps against a tree and lets out a deep breath.

What a fucking day.

He’d run out to catch a cyborg only to have no way of getting him back and now had to travel for days just to get back home. Not to mention that his arm was absolutely killing him and he probably definitely should have listened to Stan and had someone look at it. Not that he’d ever admit that. And to make things worse, his cyborg captive was currently standing from the ground literally seconds after Kyle had sat down, as if he was going somewhere.

Kyle straightens, hand instinctively going to his gun holstered at his side as he narrows his gaze.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Kenny looks at him blankly. “I need to pee.”

His statement sparks several questions about cyborg biology, and whether or not they were more human or robot. He hadn’t planned for this.

“...What?”

Kenny rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you know like when you-”

“I’m familiar with what it is!” Kyle snaps hurriedly. “Can’t you just...hold it?”

“Sweetheart, we are literally days away from town.”

Kyle blinks at him.

“I know that.”

Apparently taking Kyle’s lack of concrete answer as permission, Kenny gives him a too-sweet smile and holds out his still bound hands. “Hey listen, so did you think you could maybe-“

Knowing exactly what he was asking, Kyle immediately shakes his head.

“I’m not letting you go.”

Kenny deflates, smile dropping to be replaced with annoyance.

“Dude, come on,” he whines, “how am I supposed to work with this?” He lifts up his arms to accentuate his inability to separate them. Then he pauses, a smarmy look Kyle had become way too familiar with sliding into place. “Well, I mean, unless you wanna be my hands?”

“No.” Kyle says with a smug little smirk of his own. “You can move your arms, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Kenny groans. “You’re a dick. I swear I’m forgetting what it feels like use these things. I’m going to get out and they’re going to be just floppy muscleless appendages.”

“It’s been like a few hours,” Kyle says rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, well bondage doesn’t normally last that long,” Kenny quips, then with smarmy little smile he turns on his heel and ambles off into the curtain of foliage.

For a moment all Kyle can do it stare after him. Feeling slightly embarrassed for some reason, and also trying to do the mental calculations on how exactly a cyborg knew what bondage was.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he barely remembers to direct his gun towards him. “And don’t even think of running!” Kyle warns as Kenny continues walking away, tone several pitches away from anything resembling threatening, “One wrong move and I shoot!”

“Oh, thrilling.” Kenny says, completely deadpan, before looking over his shoulder with a wink. “I’m not really into gunplay, but you might make that work for me.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that!” He quickly calls after him but is promptly ignored. “Just hurry up,” he mutters.

Kenny does end up coming back several moments later, and when he plops down on the ground again Kyle regards him thoughtfully. Another question he hadn’t thought about coming to the forefront of his mind.

“So,” he asks slowly, prompting Kenny to look over at him in question, “does this mean you eat normal food?”

Kenny just continues to stare at him as if waiting for the punchline.

“You’re kidding, right?” He says when it becomes clear that there isn’t going to be one. “Contrary to whatever the hell you’re thinking, I don’t go around munching on metal scraps and licking up oil.”

Kyle scowls, because that might have been a little of what he had been thinking, and reaches into his pack.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a protein bar and throwing it unceremoniously in front of Kenny.

Kenny looks from it then back to Kyle, exaggerated cheer lighting his expression.

“Oh wow! You’re feeding me now?! So you do care?”

“It’s going to be a long hike,” Kyle says, ignoring the sarcasm, “I don’t need you slowing me down.”

“Your kindness really warms my heart.” He glances at the protein bar on the ground and then back to his tied hands. “Now, about eating…?”

“You can figure it out.”

“I mean, or you could just feed me?”

“No.”

“Hey,” he shrugs, “it was worth a shot.”

While Kenny gets to work trying to fiddle with the protein bar wrapper, Kyle thinks it’s as good a time as any to tend to his stab wound. Pulling his shirt over his head, he drops the dirt and blood stained material on the ground with a grimace. He then turns his gaze to his injury and winces. It’d broken open again as he feared, and blood had once again soaked through the material. Definitely was going to have to rebandage it. Luckily he thought to bring some bandages and extra supplies on this trip, he _was_ the son of Sheila Broflovski after all.

As he starts unwinding the strip of cloth from his arm, he glances over at Kenny who still had the unopened protein bar held within his hands and was openly staring at him. Kyle narrows his gaze. “What?” he asks. The cyborg blinks as of being snapped out of some kind of daze before a faint red color rises to his cheeks and he looks away.

“It’s nothing, sorry.”

Kyle gives him a look, but then goes back to unraveling the strip of cloth from his arm. Once he’s finished, and his actual injury is revealed, he hears a sharp inhale of breath from beside him.

“Dude,” Kenny breathes, “your arm...it looks like you need stitches on that thing.”

“What are you a doctor?” Kyle snaps, not needing another person to tell him what he could and couldn’t handle.

“Well, no-“

“Then shut the hell up. I’m fine.”

“Stubborn bastard,” Kenny mutters.

Kyle looks back over at him with a glare. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing,” Kenny says holding his bound hands up with a too sweet smile.

Choosing to let it go, Kyle turns back to his arm and they both drift off into silence. Kyle prodding at the ugly wound and rinsing it with some water he’d gotten from the river before pulling the roll of bandages from his pack and beginning to rewrap it.

And in this time, Kenny starts talking again. This time not about the wound but about the last time he went camping. Something about a robot girl with big boobs who had a terrible sense of humor. Goes on about how he had still tried to talk to her, even though she kept trying to kill him.

Which then leads him to another story.

And then another one.

He prattles on about anything and everything. Talking about different places he’d camped in the forest, and different creatures he’d come across. Somewhere down the line, as much as he tries to ignore him, Kyle finds himself listening more. Finds himself kind of enjoying his company.

Realization of that very fact sinks into his skin and he tries to shake himself out of it.

“God, don’t you ever shut up?” He snaps, although even he’s aware that he’s more angry at himself than anything.

Kenny seems surprised at his words, but then his initial surprise deflates into an expression that is almost melancholy.

“I never used to talk much,” he admits quietly, “but there aren’t as many cyborgs around as there used to be. Even robots are getting harder to find, not that they ever had much of a sense of humor.” He shrugs. “Still, you’re the first person my age I’ve come across in a while.”

“Your age?” Kyle can’t help but ask, for the moment choosing not to dwell too much on the exact meaning of everything he had just said.

“Yeah, what are you about twenty? That’s how old I am,” he pauses, brows scrunching together in thought. “Or at least according to what they told me.”

For some reason those words send a deep chill down Kyle’s spine. He knew what robots were, yet for some reason hearing it from Kenny bothered him.

“Who?” He finds himself asking, even though he’s not really sure he wants to know the answer.

Kenny shrugs. “Them. The people who decided to make me what I am.”

For a moment, Kyle hears the words and pictures something he probably shouldn't. A baby, getting dropped off at a lab. Under harsh fluorescent lights, bright blue eyes staring up at scientists holding scalpels in one hand and technology in the other. Nobody knew where cyborgs came from, but Kenny seemed to have a lot in common with humans, at least from what Kyle had seen at a biological standpoint. But then that would mean…

He shakes his head.

“We’re not the same,” he says as firmly as he can manage.

And although he’s proud of himself for how strong his voice comes out sounding, something deep within him twists at the sight of the hurt on Kenny’s face.

“Right.” Kenny says, voice small. “Of course. I’m gonna go to sleep.”

And just like that, he curls up on his side, turned away from Kyle. He watches him, trying to clear his head and failing miserably. He looks small. Peaceful.

And as he lays sleeping, for a moment, _just_ for a moment, Kyle imagines him without all the cybernetics and metal and is terrified of what he sees.

***

He’s stupidly beautiful.

Kyle can’t help but wonder if maybe that was on purpose. If the whole seduction thing he had going on was just a way to get him to lower his guard so he could proceed with whatever he had planned.

Kyle wouldn’t let him. Nope.

But if it was just his appearance it would be easier. Easier to ignore.

But instead…

Kyle watches as Kenny’s eyes light up as he spots a field of flowers across the river. An almost wistful smile crossing his expression as his steps slow to a stop. Without really meaning to, Kyle stops next to him, watching as the slight breeze ruffles his hair which seems almost golden in the sunlight.

He blinks, a faded memory suddenly moving to the forefront of his mind.

A few years back, Kyle had met a girl.

She’d been from earth, come out to space to see the infamous colony. The now makeshift town that had caused their own destruction, had let their pursuit of technology create what now kept them prisoner beyond their walls. She’d been smart, talking of complicated science as if it was second nature, as if she was much older than she was. Dark brown hair that flowed across her shoulder and back in rivlets, Kyle had never seen a more beautiful girl.

But something had been missing. He’d never known what it was, but now...

Kenny turns to him with a distinctively sheepish smile. “I always wanted to get over there,” he admits, tone soft and somewhat melancholy. For a moment dropping all flirtatious bravado, and showing something real hidden beneath. “River was always a bit too wide.”

Then with a small little shrug, he turns and starts continuing their way along the river. Kyle watches after him, a strange fluttery feeling twisting up his insides.

This...Kenny, this _cyborg_...

He was mesmerizing.

***

They follow the river for a while. The forest almost unbearably warm and humid, and the faint mist from the constantly rushing water feeling good on Kyle’s skin. They don’t talk much, Kenny apparently still in a mood from when Kyle snapped at him the night before, and Kyle doesn’t miss his constant chattiness. Nope. Not at all. And he _definitely_ doesn’t hate the way that the blond keeps avoiding his eyes and looking at the orange jacket tied around his waist almost longingly. When Kyle almost asked him if he wanted him to put the jacket on for him, since he couldn’t with his hands tied the way they were? Just a reflex reaction. Kyle was just a naturally thoughtful person.

...Right. That’s all it was.

Kyle’s in the middle of...inspecting, the cyborg with a small frown plastered on his face when the ground seems to shake below them.

The two instantly look at each other.

“What was that?” Kyle asks quietly.

But before Kenny can even so much as answer, there is a low growling sound that emerges from the woods, sounding much too close to comfort, and they both freeze.

The next moment, a massive creature comes lumbering out of the foliage. A towering monstrosity, unlike anything Kyle has ever seen before. Half fur and half skin, with fangs that protruded from its mouth, yellow and ugly as it roared. The sound seeming to shake the entire forest, sending chills straight down Kyle’s spine.

“Manbearpig,” Kenny says quietly, eyes wide and taking a step back.

Kyle’s never really heard a more stupid name for something in his life, but it sounds familiar. Something his father might have mentioned in passing. More of a horror story than anything Kyle would have thought an actual possibility. But it was too late for thinking about any of that now.

He makes a split second decision. Grabbing his gun from its holster, Kyle holds it tight within his fist and stands firm, staring down the creature with a glare as it stared back at him with a rumbling growl.

“Dude, really,” Kenny whispers harshly “we should run.”

Yeah, maybe they should. But Kyle was never one for running. Not with the familiar coil of rage burning within his gut, this thing another fucking obstacle in his already shitty life. Nothing could ever be easy could it? Couldn’t get one fucking break?

He wanted this thing _dead_.

Pushing Kenny behind him, Kyle levels his gun.

“Just stay behind me.”

“Seriously dude? This really isn’t a good time to play hero, we could literally die.”

The beast tilts its head at him, baring its fangs so saliva dripped down them and onto the grass below. Kyle plants his feet and narrows his gaze even further.

“I can do this.”

And with those words the massive beast finally rushes towards them with a roar. The thing wasn’t all that fast, so yeah, maybe they could have outrun it. But fuck that. It lumbers towards them on two legs, and Kyle has to rear back his head just to keep his mark in his sights, waiting for just the right moment.

Kenny is muttering curses behind him, but Kyle isn’t concerned about him at the moment. Just his breath heaving through his lungs, the gun held firmly in his grasp, and his mark.

Then, right as the creature is close enough to rear its single ginormous claw back for a strike, Kyle shoots.

It’s a perfect hit at close range. Straight in the neck. A shot his own father would have been proud of.

The beast doesn’t even slow, just lets out another roar as blood drips from its throat.

Eyes widening, Kyle pushes Kenny out of the way before throwing himself in the opposite direction. He lands, hard. His injured arm landing straight on the point of some damn boulder. It shocks him, the pain burning like fire through his veins as he chokes on a muffled scream.

He notices Kenny rolling to his feet from where Kyle had pushed him over to get him out of the way, but now the beast has its gaze focused in on him. The blond backing up slowly as he stares up at its towering form.

Kyle still had a chance to get away. Manbearpig, or whatever the cyborg had called it, wasn’t very fast and currently had its sights set on the cyborg who wasn’t running for some reason.

He doesn’t really know why he does it. Maybe it’s for the bounty, maybe it’s because this was all the fault of him and his dumb pride, or maybe it’s for some other reason entirely, but instead he grits his teeth and chooses his fate.

Picking up a rock from the ground, Kyle hurls it at the beast’s flank with as much strength as he can manage. 

“Hey you dumb bastard!” He growls, and the beast whips his gaze from the blond to turn on Kyle with a snarl.

He reaches for his gun only to realize that it’s not on his holster. Of course it wouldn’t be on his holster. He’d been holding it when he fell, fucking _idiot_.

And so he can do nothing but stare up blankly at the creature as it rushes towards him, knowing he doesn’t have enough time to move out of the way with the condition his arm was in. Another thing that was the fault of his damned pride. His eyes dart to the side and land on his abandoned gun lying in the grass a little ways off.

That gun, staring mockingly back at him, was home to a thousand memories.

His father giving it to him on his twelfth birthday.

Hand shaking and tears streaming down his face as he shot that little robotic dog that had wandered into his yard.

_“It’s just a machine, Kyle.”_

His first real kill. First bounty.

A little girl- no _robot_ , who stared up at the barrel of that gun with wide eyes. His father watching from beyond his shoulder.

_“They’re all just machines.”_

A cyborg with eyes like the sky who gazed out at the field of flowers with a soft and wistful expression. As if he had wants. As if he had _dreams_.

_“Monsters.”_

The gun’s not close enough to reach, but he can’t even make himself care. He just hopes that after it killed him maybe the giant stupid creature would end up stepping on it. Crushing it to pieces beneath its ugly pig-like feet.

Finally tearing his gaze from the gun, he looks up, prepared to stare death in the eye as it ripped him limb from limb. But instead of the lumbering creature, his sight instead becomes partially blocked by the familiar form of a boy stepping in front of him. Familiar yet different.

Standing with his back to him, Kyle notices that the mechanical part of his armor missing, leaving what looks like nothing more than a boy with a stupid orange jacket tied around his waist and some sort of metal object grasped tightly within his small hand.

Kenny, who had stepped directly between him and the charging creature, doesn’t move. Stands silent and unflinching as the beast gives another roar and leaps.

Kyle’s heart stops, sure he’s about to witness the cyborg get torn to shreds and eaten alive. But then, at the last moment, with the creature’s mouth opening in its final lunge, Kenny throws whatever had been held within his hand into the beast’s gaping maw. The minute he does, there’s something that sounds like electricity accompanied by the faint smell of burning flesh and the creature releases a sound that eerily resembles a human scream. Then, with a rumble that seems to shake the ground itself, the horrible creature falls to the ground dead.

For a few moments, Kenny just stands there. And as Kyle stares at him in shock, he finally notices the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the adrenaline finally wearing off.

He’d been afraid.

But then why? Why would he…

Kyle’s gaze drifts to his discarded gloves on the ground, sleek metal lying in the grass, high tech handcuffs still powered up around them. Kyle stares at them in complete bafflement.

“How did you…?” Kyle trails off, unsure of what to say and voice barely above a whisper.

Kenny finally turns to him.

“Dude,” he says with a smile, looking remarkably unfazed, “you handcuffed my gloves. Those things come off you know?” Lifting his hands, he wiggles his fingers in proof.

There are so many questions, Kyle doesn’t even know what to think. He’d just had a near death experience, had been prepared to die...and now this? Kenny could have died. Why risk his life for his captor? And if this meant Kenny had been able to break free all along, then that had probably been his plan from the beginning, right? Get to town, break free, and do whatever he needed to do. But if that was the case, then why was he still here? His plan failed, Kyle knew now.

It didn’t make any sense.

“Why are you still here?” Kyle finally settles on asking softly, too ashamed to look him in the eye. “You should have just let it kill me.”

It wasn’t what he had wanted of course. But it was the truth. It was what should have happened.

Kenny laughs, the sound sharp and humorless. “Well you sure are a ball of sunshine, aren’t you? You’re welcome for saving your life and all.”

“I should be dead,” Kyle says, shaking his head as if Kenny hadn’t spoken at all.

“Well tough luck, because you aren’t,” he says, tone hard and merciless. A harsh contrast to the easygoing and giggly Kenny he had known up until now. “Sorry I didn’t let that thing eat you while you decided to just lay down and die. Tell me,” he says, unrelenting, “whatever happened to the passionate and fiery bounty hunter who hunted down an infamous cyborg on a whim?”

“Shut up,” Kyle says bitterly, getting fed up with being lectured to, “you don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know you’re a stubborn bastard who needs to lighten the hell up.”

“Yeah, lighten up. Right.” Kyle scoffs. “My arm is fucking killing me, my dad’s going to think I’m a failure if I screw this up, and here I am stuck with a fucking comedian of a cyborg.”

Kenny crosses his arms and barks out a sharp laugh. “And here I thought we were having a fun-filled adventure.”

Kyle glares up at him.

“We aren’t.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that vibe. As if you treating me like shit didn’t already give that impression.” He pauses, matching Kyle’s glare. “Forgive me for trying to make the best of it.”

Hearing the challenge in his tone and eyes boring into each other the way they were, Kyle really couldn’t back down if he tried. The competitive fire burns bright within his gut, wanting to do nothing other than burn everything around him. To punch and spit and _hurt_ in whatever way he can.

“I’m treating you exactly as I should,” Kyle growls, never once breaking eye contact. “Like the monster you are.”

At his words something finally seems to crumple in Kenny’s expression and he looks away. When he next speaks his voice is soft.

“Is that what I am to you?”

Kyle hesitates, feeling as if he had won and yet for perhaps the first time finding no pleasure in victory. The answer should be simple. No. No, it _is_ simple. He knows this answer, has heard it a million times and read a thousand things that all said the exact same thing. But then why can’t he say it? Kenny standing before him, blue eyes regarding him somberly. Waiting.

Dammit, why was this so hard?

“Yeah,” he manages eventually, much softer than he had intended.

Kenny scoffs, shaking his head. “Okay fine,” he says. “But then there must be a reason, right? Tell me Kyle, what was the great bounty on my head for?”

Kyle looks away.

Kenny doesn’t back off. “Come on tell me, you were the one who took it after all. So what heinous crime did I commit? Murder? Rape?”

“Stop-”

Kenny doesn’t stop. His words only getting louder, harsher.

“Oh wait, do I maybe have a worst enemy I don’t know about? Accidently killed someone’s dog? Destroyed someone’s career? Come on Kyle, I’m dying to know.”

Kyle can’t make himself answer. It’s obvious anyway.

Kenny laughs, a harsh humorless sound. “That’s what I thought.” His voice lowers as he takes his first step backward in preparation to leave. “Next time, might I suggest finding a target whose crime is just a little bit more than fucking existing.”

Then he storms off without Kyle even trying to stop him. And after Kenny’s gone, he’s left staring blankly at the spot he once stood as if he was still there.

In a daze, he slowly rises to his feet and walks over to pick up his discarded gun.

_“Is that what I am to you?”_

The gun slips from his fingers and falls back to the ground in a puddle of blood.

He looks at his empty hand in surprise, slowly curling his fingers into a fist before he squinches his eyes shut and curses.

_Dammit._


	3. Regaining Control

When Kyle was in middle school, there was a day where he’d spoken out in his classroom about The Rebellion. They’d been learning about it that day, the event itself happening only a few years prior, and he’d lifted his hand up to voice his opinion as always. He’d voiced the fact that the robots had been treated like slaves and then given weapons to defend the population as soldiers. Logically, it never would have worked, of course the robots would eventually turn on them.

The teacher, knowing he was young, had tried to correct him in a clipped tone. Eyes blazing in warning. “The robots are not _sentient_ , child. They are created and programmed to perform _tasks_.”

But he hadn’t given it up. Instead he lifted his chin and rose up to the challenge, determined to prove his point. “If they’re just machines then why would they want to rebel in the first place?”

After that, he’d been separated from his class and friends and was homeschooled for a while. Was labeled as a disruption and wasn’t allowed around in case he’d put other “crazy” ideas in the other student’s heads.

If he’d been smart, he should have just kept his mouth shut and sat down after the first warning. Sometimes though, his pride and unwillingness to back down from a challenge really weren’t to be considered strengths of his.

Considering recent events, he supposed he never really did learn his lesson.

He doesn’t have to go far to find Kenny. The cyborg had apparently stomped away to plop down in the grass looking out over the river. Why he still hadn’t decided to run and claim his freedom baffled Kyle more than anything, whatever he was looking for in town must have been really special to him. Not for the first time, Kyle wonders what could possibly be that important. If it were him, he wouldn’t give his freedom up for anything.

“You’re still here,” Kyle says coming to a stop a little ways behind the blond who doesn’t even turn to look at him. He makes sure to keep his tone soft, as not to startle the cyborg, but if Kenny is surprised at his appearance he doesn’t show it.

Instead, he just shrugs.

The silence sits heavy between them, and Kyle fidgets uncomfortably. This wasn’t exactly a position he had been in before, hell he’d never even held a civilized conversation with a robot until Kenny. Yet he feels guilty. Unshakably so. And the words ‘I’m sorry’ sit on the edge of his tongue, even though he can’t make himself say them. So, instead he sighs and says, “Thank you for saving me.”

Kenny shrugs again.

So, apparently he was getting the silent treatment then.

He knows that should be a good thing. Logically, if the blond would just shut up then his life would be a million times simpler. That’s what he’d been hoping for this whole trip, wasn’t it?

The guilt curls around in his stomach like a living creature.

Without the cybernetics, those still lying in the field next to the dead manbearpig carcass, Kenny looks remarkably human. Like he’s just some young kid in a ratty and torn parka who had decided to sit with his knees to his chest and gaze across the river. He looks remarkably small and vulnerable, and Kyle is hit with the sudden instinct to protect him. To take him far away in the opposite direction from where they’d been traveling. Far from the dirty and rough bounty hunters back in town who would like nothing more than to rip him limb from limb, and from the world itself that wouldn’t hesitate to destroy him.

Kyle quickly shakes off the feeling. Dammit, one argument and suddenly he can’t even control his dumb thoughts. Still, exhaustion eats at him and he can’t even manage to summon the energy to be angry at himself.

Kenny still doesn’t look at him and Kyle sighs again. Cyborg or not, Kenny _had_ saved his life. He supposed he did at least earn an explanation.

“You have to understand,” Kyle says slowly, praying that Kenny would only listen, “I’m a bounty hunter. My entire job is to hunt down things like you and then kill them. And I’m good at what I do. But if I start thinking that robots are people then that means…” He trails off, looking down at his suddenly shaky hands, traces of blood lingering from when he’d picked up his gun again. He quickly looks back to Kenny who still hasn’t moved. “I don’t...I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

For a moment, he thinks that Kenny’s going to remain silent again. But then he speaks.

“I’m not a robot,” is all he says, tone sounding as tired as Kyle feels. Still, with that he finally turns his head to look at him, expression unreadable.

Kyle quirks a small smile. “They told me you were worse than one.”

“And do you still believe them?”

At the question, Kyle hesitates. It’s a reiteration of the same question as earlier. _‘Is that what I am to you?’_ repeating in his head like an unending mantra. And he knows what this is, Kenny’s second chance. The decision marking whether he’s going to get the silent treatment the rest of the way, or a return to the uneasy companionship they’d shared up until now. He knows the right answer, the one that would earn him an A on all his exams. Yet...that really didn’t make it the true one.

“I’m supposed to hate you,” Kyle finally admits, gazing down at the ground and voice so faint he wonders if Kenny can even hear him. “But I don’t, and that scares me.” Before Kenny can answer, Kyle continues. “Look, no matter what my feel- my thoughts are towards you. It doesn’t change anything. It can’t. It’d be easier if we just hated each other.”

“From what I’ve seen you don’t like doing anything the easy way.” At Kenny’s words, Kyle finally allows himself to peek up at him, and he sees that his eyes are nearly sparkling in his amusement. He pats the ground beside him in invitation.

Kyle scoffs but goes to sit beside him anyway. They sit in silence for a while, Kenny still not nearly as chatty as usual and Kyle unsure of what to even say. Finally, he settles on trying to ask the one thing he’d been wondering. Bringing up the subject of the one thing that had convinced to cyborg to give himself up and was now convincing him to stay.

“What is it that you’re searching for?”

At his sudden question, Kenny shoots him an amused look. “Kind of a loaded question, ain’t it?”

Kyle rolls his eyes.

“I mean in South Park.”

With a nod, Kenny seems to think on the question as if unsure if he wants to answer or not. When he finally does, his voice is small. “I don’t know.”

Kyle blinks.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know,” Kenny says just as quietly as before, avoiding Kyle’s gaze and running his fingers through the blades of bright green grass. “I don’t remember anything from before they made me what I am. But I get flashes of things sometimes. Dreams. Most of them with a little girl reaching out for me and calling my name.” He pauses, fingers suddenly grasping onto a fist full of grass, before releasing them and resuming his sweeping motion as he continues. “I don’t know what that means, but I feel like I need to find her. And I just know she has to be in South Park.”

He considers what Kenny said, mind focusing in on one large implication that he’d perhaps suspected all along.

“So, you were human once?”

“I’d argue that I still am, thanks,” Kenny says, tone only slightly bitter as he flicks a torn blade of grass in his direction. “But if you mean without all the wires and shit, then yeah. I wasn’t always like this.”

Slowly shaking his head, Kyle softly asks, “Who would do that to you?”

“The same people who made the robots,” Kenny says easily, as if it should have been obvious. Then his lips tilt up in a harsh little grin, something dark and chilling. “Believe me, the scientists were never exactly chummy with us so I can’t tell you much about them. But the first memories that I have involve waking up strapped down to a metal table in one of those facilities.”

Imagining himself in that position, Kyle shivers. It sounded like some sort of twisted nightmare. His mind switches to picturing Kenny waking up there, confused, alone, unable to move...and somehow doing so makes it even worse. Maybe because it was real. Fighting down nausea, he keeps his tone soft as he asks him, “How old were you?”

Kenny shrugs. “Eight? Nine maybe? I don't know, they didn’t tell me my age until later, and in the beginning the days kind of...blended together.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and realizes he means it.

In response, Kenny just nods. They drift off into silence for a few moments, Kyle still coming to terms with everything he’d just heard, when Kenny suddenly speaks in an overly playful tone that suggests he wants to change the subject to something more pleasant.

“So, Kyle. What’s your story? What made you want to become a big bad bounty hunter determined to wipe robots off the face of the planet?”

“My father,” Kyle says without an ounce of hesitation. It wasn’t exactly a secret or something that required much thought. Kenny gives him a patient look and with a scoff, Kyle embellishes, “Gerald Broflovski or Skank Hunter, or whatever the hell he’s calling himself these days. He’s the number one bounty hunter our town has ever known.”

Kenny hums in understanding. “Oh yeah,” he says, “I know the guy.” His nose curls up in distaste. “Bit of an egotistical asshole.”

Kyle barks out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, that’s definitely one way to put it.”

“That jackass is your dad?” Letting out a thoughtful noise, he jabs Kyle with his elbow and gives him a familiar smarmy little grin. “Well, your mom must be pretty hot because you clearly don’t get your good looks from him.”

“I really don’t know how I’m supposed to take that,” Kyle says, unable to stop the amusement from leaking into his tone or his lips from curling upwards into a smile. It was a return to how Kenny had treated him before their fight. As if saying he forgave him. And although Kyle knew anything other than hatred was dangerous, all he could feel was relief.

Leaning in almost conspiratorially, Kenny whispers. “Does it help if I say it was meant as a compliment?”

Kyle smirks.

“A little.”

And he’s about to say something else when suddenly he turns his head and all words leave his throat. Bright blue peer back into his, close enough for him to distinguish every shade. He hasn’t realized how close they were, and Kyle immediately stiffens, trying to squash down the horrifying feeling stirring in his gut.

Kenny, seeming to thankfully be on the same page for once, hops up from the ground and allows Kyle to finally breathe again.

“Well hows about we get going?” Kenny says easily. If he was at all as shaken as Kyle was over their small moment he sure doesn’t show it. “Got your fancy handcuffs ready? Unless you know, you wanna be a doll and let me stretch my arms for a while?”

For a moment, Kyle hesitates. If Kenny hadn’t run yet, why would he later? Besides, would Kyle even want to stop him if he did? It’s with that startling thought that Kyle realizes that far too much had just changed in a small amount of time. He still needed time to process everything and although he might not hate Kenny, he couldn’t entirely trust him either. It would do him well to remember that.

And so, he retrieves the cuffs he had taken from the blood soaked ground before he’d went to find Kenny and gestures for the blond to give him his hands. Kenny seems a bit disappointed but compiles without hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” Kyle murmurs for the second time that day as he clicks them back into place.

***

They circle back to where the fight had taken place in order to grab Kenny’s cybernetic gloves, or sleeves Kyle supposed since the wires trailed all the way up his arms. The first thing he notices as he lifts them is that they’re surprisingly light, probably aiming for maneuverability over protection. He’s about to slide them into his pack, when a thought hits him and he looks up at Kenny in concern. The blond lifts a brow at him, waiting.

“They’re not going to...explode or anything are they?”

Kenny snorts. “Oh don’t you know? If they’re not attached to my skin for more than three hours they spontaneously combust from loneliness. They’ll also dance for you if you place them on the ground and play the banjo.”

“Hilarious.”

“I try.”

Giving the things one last skeptical look, Kyle slides them into his pack. They don’t quite fit, so he has to leave them hanging part of the way out and then zip both sides of the bag up around them.

“Hey,” Kenny starts as Kyle works, “how’s your arm by the way?”

“I’ll live.”

“Kyle you almost got us both killed,” he says slowly, both concern and exasperation leaking into his tone.

“It’s...bad,” Kyle admits after a moment, the pack ready to be lifted yet he remains on the ground and pretends to play with the strap. “But I checked it before I came after you and the bleeding hasn’t soaked through. I also can’t feel any signs of infection. So, although it doesn’t look like I’m going to be carrying you anytime soon, I’ll make it back to town.”

“Damn, and here I was hoping to be escorted bridal style through the gates.”

“We’ll have to save that for another time,” Kyle says, aiming a small smile in his direction only to meet Kenny’s eyes again. A clear sparkling blue. That familiar feeling returns in his gut and he coughs, the both of them quickly looking away from each other. Kenny turns and wanders over to the giant beast lying dead in the middle of the field, while Kyle focuses on finally shouldering the pack.

“Sorry big guy,” he hears Kenny say to the dead creature, “I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun chasing around little ghost people.”

Kyle shoots him a look but doesn’t comment. “Alright,” he says, “so where to now?”

“I’ll show you.” Kenny grins and wriggles his hips in a now familiar way. “Just keep your eyes on the cute little cyborg.”

And with that, they start off.

They don’t have to walk for long, Kenny continues leading him along the river until he veers off slightly when they reach the steep overhang of a giant crashing waterfall. Kyle can still hear the sound of it when Kenny comes to a sudden stop in front of a large cave.

He turns to him, and gestures to it with a tilt of his head. “Welcome to this big ass cave,” he says with a flourish, “Home to a path straight to the borders of town and also a shit ton of darkness. Luckily, you have me.”

Kyle stares at it. It led straight into the side of the rocks that were connected to the side of the waterfall, and he supposed it would actually end up leading them down to the bottom of it or maybe further if what Kenny had was to be believed. Yet it was so pitch black he couldn’t see a thing inside, and he knew caves only grew darker the deeper they went.

His eyes narrow at it. “We’re going through here? My phone died and I don’t have a flashlight, I won’t be able to see a thing.”

“Yeah, but I will,” Kenny says, tone casual. He taps the side of his head. “Enhanced vision.”

So, he would need to guide him through. He’d need to trust that Kenny wasn’t going to let him fall through any sudden drops in the cave, or leave him abandoned in the middle of it so Kyle could spend his final days starving to death and utterly alone and surrounded by darkness. Somewhere where no one would ever find him. He’d be completely powerless.

He shivers.

“And I’m what, supposed to just cling onto your back the entire time?” Kyle stiffens his shoulders and crosses his arms. “I don’t think so.”

“Well then what-”

“We find another way around.”

“But-”

“We find another way _around_.” He repeats, tone warning that he would in no way be swayed. Kenny gets the hint and sighs, throwing his arms up in what he supposed was intended to portray exasperation; although came out looking more like flailing since his arms were still bound. 

“Whatever you wish, oh great captor,” he says, with obvious annoyance. “But this close to town, the only way through is directly in prime hunting territory.”

“Yeah, well that’s why you have me.” Kyle smirks, tilting his chin up proudly and jabbing his thumb towards himself. “Bounty hunter.”

Kenny just shakes his head and mumbles something about him getting the both of them killed.

Pretending he doesn’t hear, he then follows after Kenny as they change their course.

***

It doesn't take long for Kyle to figure out exactly what had made Kenny so hesitant to go through these parts of the woods. As they walk, old dried stains start appearing on the sides of trees and in the mossy ground underfoot. Either oil, blood, or a mixture of both. Metal pieces glint out from within plants and bushes, and at one point Kyle’s pretty sure he sees half of a human skull sitting in the grass. Kenny’s steps slow as he grows more cautious, and Kyle’s hand never leaves the holster of his gun.

As they get deeper and deeper within the oddly quiet forest warzone, they don’t dare say a word to each other. Fearing there might be hunters hiding in the bushes or the trees, and Kyle suddenly has a feeling his status as a human means nothing out here. That this was the terrifying free-for-all that his mother had been trying to get him to avoid by getting him a jetpack.

Before long, they hear a distinct rustle in the bushes and they adjust their path to avoid it. Then a little bit later there’s another one, which causes them to shoot a glance at each other before quickening their steps and changing directions.

Kyle realizes too late what’s happening.

“Oh, well if it ain’t the Broflovski boy!” He suddenly hears from directly beside him, and they both freeze. Turning slowly, they’re met with a brute of a man waving a gun lazily in his hand as he gestured to them. There’s another sound from the direction they’d last been heading, and another man pops out of the woods with a sneer.

They’d let themselves be herded, and now they were in the middle of a hunter’s trap. Kyle’s own tactic used against him. _Fuck_.

“What do you want?” Kyle grits, stepping closer to Kenny and eyeing them both warily.

“Now what did we do to deserve such a cold reception?” The one man says with a menacing little grin. “We was just gonna offer to take ya back to town.”

Hand tightening on his gun, Kyle’s gaze narrows. “Why?”

“Out of the kindness of our hearts of course!” Then he laughs, a rough bellowing thing. “I must say kid, I have to congratulate you on capturing such a high level bounty. I really didn’t think ya had it in ya.”

Kyle was so focused on the man who was speaking that he didn’t notice that his friend had sidled up to Kenny. He turns on his heel only to see the man yank Kenny’s chin up as the blond unflinchingly glares back into his eyes. “I bet you can’t wait to see what we do to cyborg’s like you,” he croons.

At the sight an almost animalistic rage flares up in his gut, and Kyle moves on instinct. With a growl he knocks the man aside and shoves between them, backing up until he has Kenny safely barricaded between him and a tree.

“Don’t. Touch. Him,” he snarls, glaring.

The men laugh.

“Relax kid, we ain’t gonna break your little bounty. Least not yet. What do you say we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?” He grits slowly, voice low. Behind him Kenny’s warmth radiates off of him, feeling real and alive. Feeling nothing less than human. The desire to throw his fist into the faces of these men is a living thing, the fear of leaving Kenny unattended the only thing stopping him.

“You see,” the man begins nonchalantly, either uncaring or oblivious to the raw hatred and anger radiating off Kyle, “there’s a lot of money on that cyborg’s head, and well, there’s really not anyone around to see us take it. But, since you were so nice to go ahead and gift wrap it for us, we’ll let ya live if ya just go ahead and hand it over.”

Kyle doesn’t hesitate.

“I’d rather die.”

The man shrugs. “If you insist.”

He then goes to point his gun towards them at the same time that Kyle draws and raises his own with one steady arm. “If you shoot then so do I,” Kyle says, slightly proud that his voice doesn’t waver. “Just let us go.”

“Cute. But I don’t think so.” The man smirks, seemingly unperturbed with the barrel of the gun now aimed towards him. With a brief glance at his buddy he says, “Go grab the cyborg, I’d hate for it to break during this.”

And with that, Kyle is suddenly very aware that he’s stuck. If he shoots then he’s dead. If he doesn’t shoot then he’s dead. He racks his brain for a plan but comes up with nothing as he watches the other guy creep closer out of the corner of his eye. Kyle can feel one of them shaking, but he’s not sure if it’s him or Kenny. Although his question is answered a moment later when Kenny reaches forward with his bound hands and presses strong reassuring fingers into the skin of his wrist. “Let me go,” he whispers, breath ghosting against the back of his neck.

Kyle’s heart pounds faster, although he quickly blames that on the fact that they’re probably about to die. His gaze narrows incredulously at Kenny’s request but he doesn’t move.

“Kyle,” Kenny murmurs quickly when he doesn’t immediately comply, “Think. I saved your life before when you weren’t standing between me and a pair of bounty hunters who’d want nothing more than to rip me apart, so why would I let you die now?” His fingers tighten around his wrist. “Trust me.”

He hesitates for one last moment, fear for them both making it incredibly hard to think straight. Then, slowly as to not draw attention to it, he slides his free hand over to his pocket and grips the handcuff-controller. And he presses the _off_ button to release him.

Hands still locked on his wrist, Kenny presses his fingers into his skin one last time in thanks, then his warmth vanishes as he slips out from behind him. The men start in surprise as Kenny bounds a few paces to the side and then whistles. “Oh no look at me,” he chirps overdramatically, “a poor defenseless cyborg with no one around to capture me. Whatever will I do?”

The guys hesitate, as their true goal is suddenly sitting right out in the open. And Kyle uses their momentary distraction to slide to the opposite side of the wide tree that he had backed Kenny up against, suddenly extremely thankful for his slight frame.

“Aye, where’d the kid go?” Kyle hears one of them say, as he presses against the bark with baited breath.

“Don’t worry bout’ him you lug,” the other one snaps. “Get the cyborg. We’ll worry bout’ the Broflovski brat later. And member’ we gotta capture those ones alive.”

Slumping against the tree in relief, Kyle closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he straightens and steps out from his cover to help Kenny.

Although he ends up just blinking in surprise at what he sees.

As it turned out, Kenny was not running as he’d expected, and instead stays exactly where he is as the two guys close in on him, offering each of them a grin and a small wave. Right when they simultaneously move to grab him he slides to the side, causing them to wrangle empty air.

Then, he giggles.

Kyle stares, eyes widening.

...Was he _enjoying_ this?

The men release a growl and lunge for him again.

Kenny gracefully dodges.

“Whoops my bad,” he singsongs, grin wide and eyes sparkling. “Sorry guys, I’m sure you’ll get me next time.”

They try again.

Kenny sidesteps and looks at them with mock pity. “Oh, so close too.”

With a curse of frustration, one of the men pulls out his gun. “They didn’t say anythin’ bout’ us bringin’ im’ back a little damaged,” he grits in response to the questioning look his companion gives him.

Kyle’s blood runs cold, but Kenny glances up at the gun and doesn’t seem too worried. He smirks, and without looking dodges the other guy as he rushes him.

Deciding that now might be a good time to step in, Kyle lifts his own gun planning to simply maim the guy by shooting the arm holding the gun. These men might have been monsters, but Kyle really didn’t want more blood on his hands then what he’d already been contemplating and dealing with.

At least, not if he had a choice.

What happens next is a swirl of movement so quick that Kyle can barely even register it.

Kenny moves out of the way of the gunshot as if he’d known exactly where it would land. And then several more shots fire in rapid succession as Kenny gracefully avoids them all. One of them however, catches the guy’s friend on the leg, and he falls forward with a curse and a cry of pain. Kenny, attention still on the gun, doesn’t register the flailing man’s limbs until a hand lashes out and catches the side of his leg, causing Kenny to stumble.

Thus giving the gunman the perfect opening.

Kyle doesn’t think, just acts.

Before the man with the gun can make use of the opportunity, he’s falling to the ground from a bullet in the back of his neck.

Kenny raises his eyes to him in surprise and Kyle gives him a shaky smile before leaning back against the tree and sliding down as his legs gave out. The sky above flickered with sunlight through the dense canopy of trees. Just one more kill. This one being a human, one that his dad had probably joked and laughed with back in town.

Dead.

...Why did he feel nothing?

His vision of the sky is suddenly blocked by a blond with concerned blue eyes peering down at him.

“You okay?” Kenny asks.

He silently nods and allows Kenny to help pull him to his feet, finding himself once again startled by the warmth and comfort that his touch brings him. As soon as he’s standing he quickly pulls away and peers across the grass to where the fight had taken place. The other man now seemed to be unconscious next to his dead partner, either from blood loss or from something Kenny had done to him. Kyle didn’t really care either way. He purposely avoids looking at the dead bounty hunter and stalks forward only to be hit with a dizzying bout of nausea.

Human blood spills into the grass, mixing with what was probably oil, and robot parts glint mockingly to him from within the trees around the spot where human bodies lay broken. Humans killing robots. Humans killing humans.

What was the fucking difference?

Why should he care if those bounty hunters captured Kenny? He was only bringing Kenny straight into the hands of men like these anyway. Men like these who'd rip every ounce of life from him. Cause his blue eyes to go dead and his steady warmth to fade from the world forever. His stomach curls in horror at the thought.

...They’d tear him apart.

He _couldn’t_ do it.

With a growl, Kyle grabs the stupid controller from his pocket and throws it to the ground, stomping it with his foot.

“Kyle…?” Kenny says in clear concern, warily making his way towards him.

“You’re free,” he says as a way of explanation. Staring down at the broken pieces of the controller he quietly tells him, “I’m not taking you in.”

For a moment Kenny is silent. Movements still a bit wary, as if approaching a frightened animal, he slowly comes up beside him and places a hand on his arm. When Kyle doesn’t shake him off, he slides it down until he grasps his shaking hand within his. “Thank you,” he tells him. “But that wasn’t part of our deal. No backing out on me now darlin’.”

Kyle slowly shakes his head.

“You don’t realize how dangerous it is there for someone like you.”

“Yeah, well consider me a hopeful bastard,” Kenny says, giving him a small smile before his tone turns serious. “I need to find her Kyle, and right now you’re my best chance of getting into town.”

Kyle looks at him, wondering if his expression is as tormented as he feels. “I’ll get you in another way,” he tells him.

“It’d be too dangerous for you. I’m perfectly capable-”

“I’ll figure it out,” Kyle says firmly, tone leaving no room for discussion. “I won’t let them have you.”

Kenny gives his hand a squeeze. “Damn you’re stubborn. If you get yourself killed you’re gonna get a whole earful from me.”

Unable to stop a smile, Kyle gives him an amused look. “And how will that work?”

“I have my ways.” He winks. But then his amusement seems to fall as he glances down at their still connected hands. “So,” he says slowly, “what do we do now?”

Kyle looks from him to the bodies abandoned in the grass. Then from the bodies to the long open road just outside of the trees that he now knew only got more blood spattered the closer they were to town. They’d maybe been walking through this part of the woods for a half hour or so before they were stopped, but it looked as if they still had a long ways to go.

Looking back towards Kenny, Kyle gives him a weary smile. “Looks like we’ll be going through the cave after all.”


	4. Something to Hold Onto

His room is just as he remembers it being.

It’s funny really, no matter how many times he finds himself back here it never really changes. Basketball posters on the wall and his old comforter spread across his bed and dotted with stars. A framed photograph on his bedside table, him and his little brother smiling as their parents and one other adult stood behind them with matching signs of happiness. He’d hidden that photo away years ago, but it still remained here. Here in this immortalized nightmare of the day that everything changed.

There’s a familiar crash from downstairs and a pleading voice that he’d never really forget the sound of. The same voice that used to calmly read him bedtime stories now pitched high in distress.

At the sound a small figure emerges from his closet, eyes wide with panic as he disregards his father’s previous order to stay hidden and bolts out the door to see what’s happening.

Desperation bleeds into Kyle’s gut and he runs out the room after him.

“No, wait!” He calls after the child, but the kid doesn’t stop, always several steps ahead as he turns and vanishes down the stairs.

Kyle continues his pursuit even though he knows it’s useless. Even though he knows how this story always ends every time without a fail. But if he could just stop him, if he could just get there in time...

But he’s too late, just like always.

He gets to the bottom of the steps, only to halt with the sound of a gunshot. Loud and booming, shaking the very walls. But no one would hear, not today. Not when the air outside was punctuated with the same sound, the day of The Rebellion being permeated with the sounds of gunshots and death. Before him, their family robot Chef falls to the floor in a burst of sparks and oil. And when he doesn’t get up again, Kyle watches as his father smirks and lowers the gun that had still been pointed at him mercilessly.

“You should have just hid,” Kyle says quietly, looking to the eleven-year-old kid beside him.

His own green eyes stare back up at him, horror and confusion swirling in shadows where there was once only innocence. They flicker back and forth between the soft questioning gaze standard of a child, to something much more apathetic and old, a wisdom present that goes way past his age. Kyle looks away before he can tell which one prevails over the other.

“They didn’t even fight back,” the child finally says, voice high and youthful yet with a detached sobriety that was distinctly matter-of-fact.

“Some of them did,” Kyle tells him, but the voice is not his own. It is deeper, more pronounced. The voice of his father. “That’s why this all started in the first place. It was their fault.”

“Can you blame them?” The child asks, and Kyle allows himself to look back at him. His younger self tilts his head at him as if puzzled and blinks up at him with a certain unguardedness that had faded long ago. “You would have done the same. After all, that’s what we’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To be free?”

The words echo hallowly through his mind and Kyle can’t find the words to answer. Then a sudden shout of his name causes him to whip his head around towards his father, and when he flicks his gaze back over to where his younger self once stood, he’s gone.

“ _Kyle_!” His father calls again, snapping him back to attention and Kyle flinches at the raw disapproval sharpening his gaze. But even as he stalks towards him, skin splattered with oil and gun hanging at his side, Kyle can’t help but notice that there’s something odd about his voice. An undertone of another familiar voice that had no place here, that is not standard of this recurrent past. “ _Kyle_!” He says again strangely as he holds the gun out to him, grease stained grip pointed in his direction for him to take, but this time Kyle recognizes the voice and allows the sound to finally fully cut through the haze of the dream.

He abruptly jerks awake, almost bumping heads with Kenny who had been leaning over him, peering down with a worry filled gaze. “Are you alright, dude?” Kenny asks him. “You were shaking.”

“Yeah,” Kyle murmurs, fully sitting up and causing Kenny to sit back out of his space although he still hovers nearby in clear concern. Running a hand through his hair, Kyle finishes with an unconvincing, “I’m fine.”

As expected, Kenny doesn’t look convinced; yet, he’s also learned not to push Kyle when he doesn't feel like talking. So he stays quiet, and Kyle looks around the camp as he tries to squash down all fading remnants of his nightmare. The cave looms in front of him, past the embers of the small fire they’d set up the night before, reminding him of just where they’d be heading today. It hadn’t taken them long to navigate their way back to it, and luckily they hadn’t run into any other problems. According to Kenny, it would take them about two days to get through the cave considering how slow they’d have to move with Kyle stumbling along, and then from there the town would only be a short distance away.

Kyle really wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

On one hand he’d be finally returning home, back to his family and friends. But on the other hand…

He watches Kenny as the blond finally relaxes where he sits and picks up a half eaten bag of trail mix he must have taken from the pack. He’d been up for a while, offering to take second watch the previous night and Kyle had let him. Had trusted him to do so. Uncuffed and free to leave or do whatever he wanted, and yet...here he was. And now he was about to trust Kenny to lead him blindly through a giant cave system.

Oh how far they’d come.

Kyle smiles softly to himself as he watches him. The blond had a tendency for witticism as well as having a captivating energy to him, but he could also give off a an easy and calming aura in periods of silence such as this. And as he watches Kenny slowly chew as the blond peers out into the surrounding forest he feels the last of his nightmare fade away. The shaken feeling being replaced with a quiet question that had finally occurred to him as they’d walked back from their encounter with the bounty hunters the day before, but that he’d hesitated on asking for a reason he couldn’t quite discern.

“Kenny, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “Shoot.”

“Why me?”

Kenny abruptly seems to choke on the last handful of trail mix and he coughs for a moment as Kyle eyes him with concern. Then Kenny looks to him with a slight grimace and laughs a bit nervously. “Uh, whatever do you mean?”

Slightly narrowing his gaze in confusion in regards to Kenny’s strange behavior, Kyle answers, “I mean, why did you need me to get you into town? You’ve been tracked down by dozens of bounty hunters, so why not them? I’m sure they could have gotten you there faster.”

“Yeah, they could have,” Kenny tells him with a small smile, seeming a bit relieved. “Though it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.” Still he doesn’t put his normal amount of energy into the comment and when Kyle shoots him a look he just sighs. “You’re right though, and if you want the truth, this isn’t the first time that I’ve tried this,” he says distantly, quirking his lip up into a small smile before looking away towards the trees. “I lost count of how many times I’ve tried getting in, using different people, different methods. None of them worked.”

It takes a moment for Kyle to register the meaning of his words, and when he does he can’t quite wrap his head around the concept. His brow knits in confusion as he pictures Kenny being brought in by groups of bounty hunters only for his plans to all fail, and yet still managing to come out alive every time.

With a disbelieving shake of his head, Kyle asks him, “How are you still alive?” And at his question a certain glint enters Kenny’s eye.

“I’m hard to kill.”

Kyle frowns.

“So...I’m just one of many attempts then?”

“No,” Kenny says quickly. Then he rakes a hand through his hair with an uncharacteristically heavy sigh, looking as if his next words were something he’d rather not say. Still, after a moment of hesitation, he proceeds. “There’s only so many times you can fail before you lose hope,” he admits with a weary smile. “I’d given up, Kyle. Was resigned that I’d just spend the rest of my sad existence out here and would never really find what I was looking for.”

“What changed?”

“I met you,” Kenny says softly, looking at him in a way that makes Kyle’s stomach flip. Then Kenny’s smile widens and he speaks his next words with a flair of his normal charisma. “A strong, _fearsome_ bounty hunter he said, and here you were nothing more than an injured kid. Yet you’d flown out to capture the most infamous cyborg on a fucking whim.” His laugh is disbelieving yet his expression holds something that might be awe. “It was the craziest thing I’d ever heard. But even when you were on the ground defeated, you still never gave up.” His bravado fades and he gives Kyle a dopey look filled with honest affection. “You’re some kind of amazing, you know that?”

Kyle flushes at his words and his heartbeat quickens erratically. He’s pretty sure he’s never truly blushed in his life, yet the warmth in his cheeks is undeniable and he turns away before Kenny can notice.

This was a dangerous game he was playing. Helping Kenny was one thing, but losing his heart to a cyborg was another thing altogether.

Kenny just had a way of being...attractive. Enthralling and alluring...and oh god he did not just use those words to describe his dumb flirty companion.

He just needed to focus.

And the moment he does so, he blinks.

Slowly the pieces start to click together.

“That’s why you got so mad when I gave up after the uh...manbearpig incident,” he deduces, his realization and a need for answers surpassing his not-so-subtle feelings for the moment.

Kenny grins, either not noticing Kyle’s mini crisis or choosing to ignore it. “Oh how the mighty had fallen,” he quips. “And here I’d thought you were my firecracker. Besides,” he shrugs, “I’d saved your life, a thank you would have been nice.”

Although Kenny’s tone is joking, Kyle can’t help the guilt from twisting his gut. The hurt look that had been on Kenny’s face something that he wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Swallowing thickly, he mutters, “I really am sorry.”

For a moment Kenny doesn’t say anything. Just looks at him with his sky blue eyes, until a real smile pulls at the corners of his lips. None of his normal snark present, just a honest and true smile that does strange things to Kyle’s insides.

 _Focus, Kyle_ , he reminds himself.

Thankfully, in the next moment Kenny rises to his feet and stretches. “Well come on,” he says, holding out a hand for Kyle to take, “the cave should take us about two days to get through so we should probably get a move on now.”

 _What’s the hurry?_ Kyle almost finds himself saying before thinking better of it, allowing Kenny to pull him to his feet with nothing more than a weary smile.

***

The cave, as Kenny had warned, is little more than a giant tunnel of darkness. It isn’t long before what little light had been spilling in from the entrance gets lost far behind them, and Kyle’s only source of guidance is Kenny’s hand held tightly within his own.

“You can really see in this?” He asks the cyborg skeptically, feeling as if he was walking around blindfolded.

“Yeah, sure. I mean everything’s gray and looks pretty similar but then again we are in a giant rock.”

“And you’re sure you know where we’re going?”

“Uh huh,” Kenny says easily with the faintest hint of exasperation. “This ain’t my first rodeo, you know.”

Kyle blinks.

“What the hell is a _rodeo_?”

For a moment Kenny is silent, then slowly he admits. “...I really don’t know.”

“Great,” Kyle deadpans. “Now I’m not going to be able to trust anything you say from now on.”

Kenny snorts. “As if you ever have, Mr. Twenty Questions.”

Kyle pauses, not missing the bit of bitterness in Kenny’s tone. He feels a frown tug at his lips at the inclination, and has a sudden need to rectify it.

“I do trust you,” he says quietly. “I don’t think I could have done this with anyone else.”

In truth, he hadn’t really realized how true the words were until he said them. But they were true. Mentally going through his list of people he knew, he tried to picture trusting any one of them enough to allow them to guide him with nothing more than a hand, and could think of no one. Even with someone like Stan, who he knew cared for him, Kyle simply didn’t trust his navigational abilities enough to let him take the lead.

It was a bit eye opening if he was being honest. Still, in normal Kenny fashion, the blond seems to ignore the weight of his words and deflects them with humor.

“Well duh,” Kenny says, “unless you have any more cyborg friends I should know about.”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Kenny responds quietly after a moment. His hand tightens around Kyle’s a bit, and then not a minute later he suddenly says, “You know, I just thought of something.”

“And that is?”

“You can’t look at my ass anymore,” he quips, causing Kyle to groan. “Tell me, on a scale from one to ten, how upset are you?”

“I hate you.”

“A ten then,” he says without missing a beat. “It’s alright I understand. Then again I can stare at yours without having to worry about you punching me, so I’m doing pretty alright.”

Kyle raises an eyebrow more out of habit than anything. “I thought you said everything was grey to you?”

“It is. But your ass looks _great_ in grayscale,” he says and Kyle can practically hear the smarmy grin he has to be giving him. It’s funny how even though they’d only spent a few days together, most of which was lined with tension and misplaced anger, Kyle felt as if he had known him for much longer. Could picture his every expression even in the darkness.

“Great,” he responds dryly. “Maybe if I ever get out of here, I can put that on my resume. I’ll probably be looking for a new job after all.”

It’s only after he speaks that he realizes exactly what he had said, and he’s a little shocked himself at what had just come out of his mouth. As it was, the future is something he’d been trying to avoid thinking about at all. And yet apparently his subconscious had been doing some work on all its own, because there it was, the uncertainty of his career hanging out in the open.

There is silence between them for a bit, and then softly, Kenny speaks.

“...Will you?” He asks him.

“I don’t know,” Kyle admits. “Being a bounty hunter is all I’ve ever known.” That’s about as far as he’d allowed even himself to think about and so he cuts it off there.

“Hey well maybe we can just play one big game of cat and mouse for eternity,” Kenny says, obviously grasping for lightness, to which Kyle is thankful. “You keep finding me, and I’ll keep coming up with new pick up lines to keep things interesting.”

“I think you’re missing the point of a job. I’ll never be able to get paid.”

“See, but that’s only if you don’t catch me,” Kenny points out, and if Kyle could see him he knows he’d be grinning up at him. “That’s why you gotta keep trying.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Kyle says with a snort.

“But also the perfect distraction.” There is a self-satisfied tinge to the words when he speaks. As if he was proud of himself. “The cave’s not so scary now, is it?”

And suddenly Kyle realizes exactly what he’d been doing.

Realizes what he’d perhaps been doing since the first time he met him. Back when the trees had seemed terrifying, the soot covered ground endless and confusing, and Kenny had been there chirping endlessly to him about anything and everything. ...Back when he had distracted him from the world, his thoughts, and everything he feared without Kyle even realizing it.

His throat suddenly feels tight and he’s nearly overwhelmed with the sudden affection he feels for this stupid and selfless boy. This boy who had talked, and joked, and _saved_ him when anyone else would have left him to suffer alone for being such an asshole.

“I admit to nothing,” Kyle says, voice thick. “But…I won’t say no if you happen to have any stories you wanna tell me.”

He feels Kenny bump his shoulder with his own. “I thought you’d never ask.”

And so, that’s how they proceed. Kenny telling him story after story about things he’s encountered during his lifetime. Laughing as he tells about bounty hunter’s he’s avoided, detailing creatures he’d discovered, and painting the picture of a boy who had wandered the planet for years yet had never really found anything to hold onto. Kyle listens attentively through all of it, at least until Kenny cuts himself off with a curse and pulls Kyle to a stop.

“What?” Kyle asks, instantly on edge. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing really-”

“ _Kenny_ ,” he growls, in no mood for his fake nonchalance when something was clearly wrong and he couldn’t see a damn thing.

“Okay so there might be a teensy little cavern that I forgot was in here,” he answers a bit sheepishly. “Not a big deal if you can see but uh, just follow close behind me, alright?”

With a sharp inhale, Kyle stiffens and tightens his grip on Kenny’s hand, showing his understanding with a firm nod.

Kenny gives his hand a squeeze in return before muttering, “Okay, here we go.”

And with that, they begin inching forward.

Keeping their pace slow, Kyle does his best to walk in a completely straight line, trusting Kenny to correct him if necessary. The air fills with a sudden chill, as if any warmth lingering in the stone had gotten lost in the magnitude of the chasm they were currently crossing, and Kyle has to wonder just how big this ‘teensy little cavern’ actually was. He realizes that he’d really rather not know. Sure he did still have his jetpack, but if he were to fall then he would either drag Kenny down with him which would bring them back to their first problem, or he’d lose his grip and suddenly be left falling without a guide. Lost in infinite blackness with no sense of direction or where solid ground might be. And that’s not even mentioning the stalactites that were very likely lining the roof of a cavern that was this size. Fear grips at his chest and he tries to keep his steps steady and focused. He just needed to-

Kyle’s foot slips.

His throat catches on a startled yell as he quickly loses his balance and topples over the edge. There’s a moment of utter panic before his fall is stopped by Kenny who keeps his hold on his hand and thankfully manages to remain standing with a strained curse, anchoring Kyle to the side by one hand while Kyle’s other quickly fumbles for purchase on the rock. He finds one quickly enough and holds onto it for dear life; although, the action makes his injured arm feel like it’s on fire with the sudden strain and he lets out a pained hiss.

And just like that, he’s stuck. Hanging with nothing below him and without the strength to climb back up.

“Alright, shit, okay,” Kenny’s voice comes through to him though the pain and the panic. Voice clearly strained, yet somehow still calm. “Ky, sweetheart, I’m going to need you to let go of the rock and reach up to me.”

“Are you crazy?!” He snaps immediately. “I’ll fall.”

Kenny’s tone remains calm. “I’m not going to let that happen. I promise. I just need you to trust me.”

“Okay,” Kyle finally relents, feeling his grip on both Kenny and the rock beginning to slip. “On three.”

He hears Kenny count under his breath, and then the moment he says three Kyle releases his right hand’s hold on the wall before reaching up blindly into the empty air. There’s a brief terrifying moment when he feels his grip on Kenny slip even more before Kenny grabs his other hand, and with both in his grasp manages to pull him up and over the cliffside. Kyle’s injured arm screams in protest, but he’s able to ignore it in the blinding relief of once again having solid ground beneath him.

Trying his best to catch his breath, Kyle just lays there unmoving. At least until a gentle hand grasps at his shoulder and Kenny softly says to him, “We’re almost there, can you walk?”

Kyle nods, wanting time to get his bearings yet knowing that time for that was better spent somewhere he wasn’t still laying precariously close to a giant chasm. So he allows Kenny to pull him to his feet, the blond hovering for a moment to make sure that he’s balanced, before tugging him forward. He walks him several feet before he stops when they reach a wall and the air once again grows a bit warmer. Then, without a word, he feels Kenny as he spins around to press his back against the wall and then slips down it as if his legs can no longer support him. As if he’d only been holding it together by a thread, and now simply no longer had the energy to do so. Kyle follows him down, hands still connected and legs feeling no less wobbly, and they both sit partially wrapped up in each other as they heave for breath.

“Well that was fun,” Kenny says with a shaky laugh. “Next time you want to jump down any giant chasms just give me a bit of warning, okay?”

But Kyle is no longer really listening.

His chest is heaving in time with Kenny’s, and his skin tingles every place that their skin touches. Kenny’s breath ghosts against his cheek, rapid as the rise and fall of his chest, and there in the darkness of the cave hidden from the rest of the world, Kyle finally accepts the fixation he has on this boy. This boy who was selfless and had saved him in more ways than one despite everything. This boy, who in this very moment, is nothing less than his entire world.

“Kyle?” Kenny speaks up a bit timidly, likely catching onto his expression and sudden silence.

Kyle swallows down a lump of his throat before reaching out blindly to touch him, finding his shoulder and then trailing his hand upwards past his neck and to the curve of his cheek. He hears Kenny’s breath hitch, but he doesn’t move or say anything, just allows Kyle to forge his own journey.

“Why am I so drawn to you?” Kyle murmurs, mostly to himself.

He feels Kenny’s body give a small shiver, before there’s suddenly the warmth of a hand softly cupping his face. And then Kenny is there, pausing not a breath away from his lips, as if asking a silent question. Kyle tenses, indecision weighing his thoughts for one final moment, before he allows the darkness of the cave to be his sanctuary and finally closes the small distance between them.

Kenny’s lips are softer and more warm then he could have ever imagined. He sighs into the kiss, releasing all reservations and allowing himself to get lost in the taste and feel of him, clutching him closer as Kenny’s arms move to slide around his neck. When they finally part, Kyle doesn’t go far, moving only to lean his forehead against Kenny’s. “This isn’t good,” he breathes.

In response, Kenny only leans in to kiss him again.

“I know,” Kenny tells him softly when they part for the second time. Then he slides an arm away from him and Kyle feels the pads of his fingertips tracing against his jaw, causing him to shiver.

“They’d label me a sympathizer if they found out,” Kyle goes on, even as he leans into his hand. “I’d be thrown in jail or killed.”

“They’ll kill me no matter what,” Kenny says with an easy lilt to his voice, but the implication makes Kyle’s blood run cold. “Comes with the whole ‘existing’ thing.”

“I won’t let them,” he promises. Determination makes his voice firm and he wonders if Kenny can hear the quiet fire burning under the surface. A declaration that he’d do everything in his power in order to keep that promise, no matter what.

But Kenny doesn’t respond, just tightens his hold around him and presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

“We should probably keep moving,” Kenny says eventually, after they don’t speak for a long time. Being the one to finally admit the fact that they couldn’t stay here forever and had to keep moving on towards the town.

“Yeah,” Kyle agrees with only half his heart. “Okay.”

***

About a little over halfway through the cave there’s a break in the rock overhead. Sunlight pours in through the hole, a warm orange glow that announces the presence of sunset, and on the rock-bed where the light touches are patches of moss and other plant life that had managed to attach itself to its rocky surroundings, bathed in shadow and surviving in the small ounce of light provided by the sun.

It’s in that small illuminated spot that they decide to make camp for the night.

They’re both exhausted, yet they choose to stay up a bit longer. Enjoying the last bit of sunlight while it was still present, and finishing up what was almost the last of Kyle’s food supply. It’s in this time that Kyle finally asks about the cybernetic gloves he’d been carrying around in his pack, wanting to know everything about Kenny while he still had the chance.

“Well they’re pretty much just useless metal unless they’re attached to me,” Kenny explains, looking at the gloves almost fondly. “Since these parts here are responsive to my programming chip, exclusively. You know, that way no one can come along and hit me with my own arm or something. Now that’d just be embarrassing.”

But his words drown out in Kyle’s ears, all air leaving his lungs with a sudden realization.

Kenny had a programming chip. The same thing he had ripped from countless robots, their blood soaking into the skin of his hands. _His_ Kenny had one. And had the bounty said kill instead of capture, he would have done the same thing to him without a thought.

“Ky, are you okay?”

“You have a programming chip,” he responds, staring blankly into Kenny’s concerned gaze, feeling numb. And Kenny only looks more confused at his words.

“I...yeah. I thought you knew. They’re what-”

“I know what they are,” Kyle cuts him off, tone soft. Finding himself no longer able to meet his eyes, he looks away towards the moss on the stone floor.

“Oh,” Kenny says after a moment, and then understanding finally colors his voice as he says, “Oh...Darlin’ you can’t blame yourself, you were only listening to what you were told.”

Kyle just shakes his head.

“But that just makes it worse, doesn’t it? That I always suspected but I just…” Kyle’s voice breaks and he further turns away from him. Squeezing his eyes shut and trying to stop the tears gathering behind his eyelids. He hears Kenny move over and suddenly there are arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer until Kyle’s head rests on his shoulder.

“If it wasn’t you then it would have been someone else,” Kenny tells him quietly. And Kyle knows it’s true, but it still doesn’t make it any better. It doesn’t make him any less of a monster. He sniffles and his eyes are slightly blurry, but still tears do not fall.

“They don’t even put bounties on humans or animals,” he mutters bitterly, an uncertain future looming before him. “I should have just become a damn guard.”

Kenny looks down at him with a small smile. “Hey, but then you wouldn’t have met me.”

In response, Kyle can’t help but quirk a smile of his own. “You made me question my entire existence.”

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

Kyle snorts, yet finds himself feeling a bit better. Sitting up off of Kenny’s shoulder, he takes a deep breath and tries to collect himself. What was in the past was done, all he could do now was move forward. “So,” he says to Kenny, voice only a bit shaky, “what’s it like having a...programming chip?”

He watches as Kenny purses his lips as if in thought, and it dawns on him that it might be a strange question for someone who doesn’t exactly remember living without one of them. Still, after a moment Kenny answers in what’s probably the only way he can think of.

“It’s right at the back of my skull,” he describes, gesturing to the back of his head. “A little metal thing that’s the only difference between me and a normal human. Well that and the serial number tattooed across the back of my neck.” He inclines his head and pushes up some of his hair to reveal a series of letters and numbers that remained partly hidden there. Kyle had seen glimpses of it as they’d traveled, knowing from his experience with robots exactly where to look, but Kenny openly showing it to him now feels strangely intimate. Then, glancing over at him, Kenny gives him a weak smile. “Did you want to…?”

Kyle rapidly shakes his head, knowing exactly what he was asking. And although he was curious, he didn’t want to go anywhere near something so delicate with his hands covered in phantom blood.

But Kenny just smiles at him again, soft and gentle, before he scoots over to sit directly in front of him, neck still inclined forward. “I trust you.”

Kyle swallows nervously, but slowly brings his hand up to his neck, lightly tracing his fingers across the tattoo there, _K3NN-14_ staring out at him in deep black ink. Kenny remains still, but he feels a slight tremor go through his body at his touch. Leaving the tattoo, Kyle then parts his hair and follows the faint scar starting at the base of his neck and leading up to a small lump resting at the base of his skull. He lightly brushes his finger over it and Kenny sharply inhales.

“They’re usually further inside,” Kyle notes, almost to himself in quiet fascination.

“Well I hear I have quite a few wires leading into my brain, but other than that,” Kenny gives a small shrug, “guess that’s where they put it.” They fall into silence for a few more moments, Kyle continuing to draw little circles around the bump when Kenny finally speaks again in a low and quiet voice. “Does it...bother you?”

At that Kyle finally pulls back, catching Kenny’s eye and asking, “Does me being who I am bother _you_?”

Kenny gives a small shake of his head and laughs humorlessly. “We’re totally fucking screwed, aren’t we?”

In response, Kyle just presses his lips against the serial number across the back of his neck, earning a shudder.

“You don’t even know the half of it.”


	5. What Was Once Home

There’s something to be said about the passing of time when it’s not exactly a thing that’s wanted.

The food supply had run out. His phone was dead, and it’d taken them two full days of almost unbroken darkness to make it through the cave. But that darkness hadn’t been empty, there’d been a warm hand holding his that proved that fact. A voice that had grown into a source of comfort. A cyborg whose very presence was reminiscent of having his own personal sun, something that could not be diminished by the chilly cavern air or mere darkness.

The cave itself was something like a nightmare, or at least it was supposed to be. Although the company he shared the experience with made it anything but.

Kenny turned that cave into a refuge. Into something that Kyle was sure he would look back on fondly once everything was said and done...

Because the other thing about time, was that everything eventually came to an end. No matter how much he wished the opposite were true.

Now the town looms in front of them. But as much as Kyle had found himself in this very situation before, standing on the outskirts and looking out at the walled off place he called home, this time felt different. Like he was only seeing it for the first time. As if it had changed in the time he was gone; the walls a bit more foreboding, the air a bit more heavy. The guards standing at attention at the top only added to the ominous air, and with a sharp inhale he realizes that the place that had once meant sanctuary, suddenly looked an awful lot like a prison.

_Except, that’s what it always was. Wasn’t it?_

Stomping down the unwelcome voice in his head, he turns his attention to Kenny.

“Stay here. I’m going to go in and-”

“Like hell you’re going in without me,” Kenny immediately retorts, crossing his arms and narrowing his gaze in a way that Kyle was sure was reminiscent of himself on multiple occasions. Kyle could write a book on stubbornness, but Kenny was certainly no stranger to it either, he just showed it less often. It was just another thing Kyle could add to this list of things he loved about Kenny. A fire to match his own. Who would have thought there could be such a thing?

But this moment has no place for an argument. There is only logic and there is only reason. Logic and reason, the ash and dust that held the power to put out any old flame.

“Kenny, this is my _home_.” The word tastes bitter on his tongue, but he does his best to ignore it as he continues. “They know me, nothing’s going to happen. But if I’m going to get you in, then I’m going to need help from inside.”

There is a faint moment when Kyle thinks Kenny is about to argue. To twist and fight and against the truth as Kyle himself probably would in his situation. But Kenny is different than him in that respect. Stronger. Better than he could ever be. And so, Kenny only leans up to press a gentle kiss on his lips and whispers, “Be careful, I’m going to be very upset with you if you end up dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Wrapping his arms around Kenny’s middle, Kyle smiles. “Have a little faith, it’s my town so I expect they’d at least have the decency to bury me properly.” Although it’s no sooner that the words are out of his mouth that Kenny flicks his forehead. Hard. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Don’t joke about your death, it doesn’t suit you. That’s my job.”

“Joking about my death?”

“No, joking about mine.” Kenny gives him one last peck on his lips before lightly shoving him away. “Now go on darlin’, don’t keep me waiting.”

Kyle gives him a nod, yet his feet stay where they are. Hesitating as the complexities of their circumstance circles around them, and a thousand unsaid words linger in the spaces between breaths. Finally, before the sudden silence can turn awkward in the face of Kenny’s expectancy, Kyle mutters out a half strangled, “Stay safe.”

At his words Kenny’s lips quirk into an amused grin. “Hey, I’m not the one who goes wrestling bear-pig monsters and jumping off cliffs, now am I? Not to mention-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I just…”

The words once again escape him. There is the knowledge that he needs to say _something_ , but everything he can think of feels inadequate. Nothing seems big enough to fill the space between them. But something in his expression must be enough, because Kenny’s own expression turns to one of understanding and he gives him another small smile, likely meant to be reassuring.

“Don’t you worry sweetheart,” he tells him gently, “I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Suddenly feeling stupid, Kyle only gives one small nod before finally turning to leave. He makes it several feet before looking back at Kenny for one final time, finding that he looked remarkably small surrounded by the backdrop of the empty wilderness. Small, and a little lost maybe, but peaceful.

Safe.

 _Free_.

“Get it together, Broflovski,” he murmurs to himself. “You made a promise.”

And so he keeps marching on without looking back. Running through his plan in his mind and letting determination fill the places where uncertainty once took shelter. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t allow himself to fail. Kenny was depending on him, and getting him in and out of this death trap safely was his top priority right now.

_Get him out? You’d really let him go after all of this?_

“Fuck.”

He usually only had to deal with this shit in dreams. These questions that he had no answer for, these reminders that what he was doing and what he knew to be true wasn’t necessarily of the same mind. Kenny had been a good distraction from everything that had been plaguing him, but now that he was gone it was hitting him full force. The dreams. The past. The uncertain future.

Maybe he was just going a bit mental. Killing living creatures for a profession could do that to a person right? Make them a little loose in the head?

“ _Fuck_.” He repeats to himself, punctuating the sharply uttered word with a rough tug at the binding across his arm injury. The pain that greets him is immediate, but it’s a welcome distraction to his previous line of thinking and helps focus his thoughts on what was most important at the moment. He unravels the bandage the rest of the way before discarding the blood stained cloth and taking a look at his injury. Infection hadn’t set in which was a blessing in of itself, but the arduous journey hadn’t done too well on the healing side of things. It was still an ugly sight, fresh blood oozing over that which had already dried against his skin. It looked fresh, nearly the same as the day he had gotten it. Of course, despite the fact that it was the product of his own pride and stupidity and had caused him more than enough problems on his journey, it might also just be his express ticket in.

At least, if things went according to plan.

Throwing a hand over his injury, he grits his teeth as the dust and dirt from his palm settles against the open wound. His mother would give him one hell of a scolding if she were to see him now, but it was a necessary step. Besides, he was only a small distance away from the town and actual honest to god medical treatment, so getting an infection now was honestly the least of his concerns. Feeling the blood pool against his hand, he takes it away and rubs his palms together, getting the sticky substance under his nails and in the creases of his skin. He wipes a little on his clothes, but doesn’t go crazy with it, knowing that the black was good with hiding bloodstains anyway.

And it’s only when he’s convincingly blood-covered, at least convincing enough to account for a fresh injury, does he finally ready himself. A final steep inhale. A slow exhale. Then he steps out of the protection of the last of the rockside that connected to the cave, and slowly makes his way across the open and ash covered terrain that marked his way back to town.

It is a path he knows well, and this time he has no reason not to use his jetpack as he would normally after some hunting excursion or other. The faster he got this done the better, Kenny was waiting for him.

It is routine. Not much of a risky plan or break-in as one might expect. There is but one goal: avoid as many questions as possible. Because whatever he said here would also have to account for a later method of getting Kenny through these very same gates, and that was something he wasn’t quite sure of how to do just yet.

Just one step at a time.

He supposes he would have been asking for too much for it to have been Stan to be on gate duty today. Still, all things considered, there were much worse guards he could have been greeted with than Token Black once the gates part for him and he steps into the walls.

“Hey, dude,” Kyle greets him, aiming for nonchalance.

Token gives him a slight nod. “Finally returned, huh? You were out longer than usual.”

“I ran into some...issues.”

At his words Kyle makes a motion towards his wounded shoulder, and after eyeing the injury some of Tokens professionalism melts into concern. Still, he was never one to slack off on his job, and there were protocols he needed to follow.

“You piss anything off out there?” He asks as he takes out his scanner, and runs it along Kyle’s body- checking for chips or bits of tech that could have been attached to him. “We have any reason to tighten security?”

Kyle shakes his head _no_ , and Token acknowledges his response with a nod as he continues to scan.

“I heard you were on quite the interesting hunt,” Token continues, tone conversational. “Had quite a few people worried, I’m guessing things didn’t go according to plan?”

Kyle barely conceals a cringe, suddenly at the brunt of the one line of questioning that he’d been hoping to avoid. It was only polite conversation, but Kyle had never exactly been shy about ranting about his problems on precious occasions, and so anything less than bitterness over a failure would instantly raise suspicions. So, that’s exactly what he does, hoping his little tale won’t end up screwing him over later.

“I couldn’t even catch the damn thing,” he says, hating the words as he says them, yet using that hatred to curve up the bitterness in his tone. “Tracked it for days and eventually I ran out of supplies and had to make my way back. But then I ran into trouble on my way here.” He pauses then, because he knows how that sounds. How simplistic he has made his statement. Before Token can get a chance to press further, Kyle takes the out he had planned. Faking a grimace he adds, “ _Please_ I just...I need to get to a medic.”

It’s then that Token finally takes a step back, looking satisfied that Kyle was clean and tucking away his scanner. “Of course. Did you need me to-”

“No,” he says with a quick shake of his head. “No, I can get there on my own.”

“As stubborn as ever.” Token gives him a half amused and half exasperated look. “Your mom’s been tearing up the town looking for you, you know? Thought we were gonna have to put your dad under watch in case she tried to kill him.”

“Yeah, I figured.” This time he doesn’t have to fake his grimace. “Can you do me a favor and...not tell her I’m back? At least until I get this taken care of?”

He nods to his arm and Token eyes him with sympathy. “Yeah dude, I get it. You go get yourself patched up and I’ll make sure Butters’ clinic isn’t going to become a warzone.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I’ll let the others know too. Although I know she’s been pestering Stan about it, so I can’t help it if he ends up spilling the news.”

At his words, Kyle allows his lips to curve into a smile of true relief. “Thanks, Token, I owe you one.” He then goes to make his hasty retreat, only to pause as he remembered something else. Something crucial. “But actually, if you do see Stan, could you send him my way?”

“Sure thing, dude. As if I’d be able to stop him from checking up on you anyway, I know you two are tight.” Then Token rolls his eyes. “Besides, it’s not like he needs an excuse to visit Butters.”

Kyle gives him a friendly punch on the arm before excusing himself with a smile.

Sometimes he was extremely thankful Stan had joined the guard. All of that time he spent around him and his coworkers certainly had its perks, and never had it been more useful than now.

Step one had gone off without a hitch, now he just had to worry about step two and three.

Of course, they were gonna be the hard parts of this.

“Stan, please just trust me,” he mutters under his breath. A quiet plea for the one person whose decision would decide where this whole mess would end.

***

The walk to the clinic is thankfully uneventful. Just as there were perks with being friendly with the guards there were also perks to being...not so friendly with the rest of the townsfolk. Not that Kyle had ever been outright rude to them, at least not purposefully. But there was something to be said about the firm walls he put up around himself, never letting himself get caught up in friendly chatter or the latest gossip. He’d been referred to as a loner on a few occasions, one who preferred observing and analyzing to mingling. But he had Stan, and then there was Butters and most of the guard by association, and that was enough for him.

At least it _was_.

Now there was another factor. A factor who had stupidly bright eyes that never seemed to lose their cheer. Someone who looked at the world like it was so much more than whatever it was Kyle himself saw of it. Someone he was drawn to implicitly, because he was the type of person he wanted to be. And who he wanted to be _with_.

_And yet as soon as he finds what he’s looking for, he’s going to be out of your life forever._

But then again that was for the best, wasn’t it? These plain faces milling about between steel walls hidden under the darkness of a cave weren’t like him. Not because they didn’t have a program chip or any of that shit that once seemed so important, but because they held none of the life that he had. None of his warmth. None of his light. Kenny deserved more than this.

He deserved to be free.

“It’s more than I deserve,” Kyle whispers, just as he turns onto the street where the small clinic was located. It was a small unassuming thing, run by a single doctor and whatever volunteers happened to be nice enough to help out Butters when things got busy. But all things considered, the lack of medical staff had never really been much of a problem. The town itself had always been rather small, and most careers had the mandatory requirement of annual first aid classes. There had been more doctors at a time. Scientists and well...more people in general.

Then The Rebellion happened.

And then the gates closed, and suddenly people in lab coats weren’t exactly the most welcome civilians.

Luckily, Butters was one of the most non threatening individuals out there. So if there was one exception to the general untrust his position had gained, it was him.

Walking into the small building, Kyle is immediately greeted with a bright smile from over a desk. To his relief the clinic appeared to be empty, there was only Butters who quickly gets to his feet and hurries over to him. “Heya, Kyle!” He chirps brightly. “Stan’s been awful worried about-” His words get cut off as he eyes the blood on Kyle’s hands and pooling on his arm. “Gee, went and got yourself hurt again? I thought I’d gone and told ya to stay outta trouble?”

Despite his effort, Kyle can’t mask his small and clearly sheepish smile. “What can I say, it tends to follow me.”

Butters tuts like a disappointed parent, leaning in to quickly inspect the wound before ushering him into one of the three small rooms he used for examinations.

Once there, he gestures for Kyle to sit atop one of the exam tables and then gets to work cleaning the wound. It stings like hell, but Kyle grits his teeth and bares it, only faintly registering the likely meant to be distracting chatter coming from Butters. It’s only after the small blond gets to work on the actual stitches that he bothers asking about the cause of the injury.

“I was fighting a robot and it got in a lucky hit with its knife,” Kyle tells him.

He says it blandly, hoping that would be enough to satisfy him, not yet wanting to express the fact that this particular injury happened to be several days old. Even now, Kyle felt as if the actual fight had been a lifetime ago. He’d been a different person back then and it was hard to believe how much had changed in only a few days.

To his relief, Butters doesn't press for any more information, and settles on meaningless prattle and small talk to fill the silence. Butters was always good with that, filling silences. It was something Kyle had learned to appreciate about him over the years.

Butters is in the middle of telling him a story about a bird he’d helped nurse back to health, when there’s a sudden knock on the exam room door. At the sound Kyle automatically tenses, but the familiar voice on the other side makes him relax just as quickly.

“Hey Butters, it’s Stan. You in there?”

“Yep,” Butters says, expression lighting up as he spares a glance towards the still closed door. “Kyle’s in here too. You can come in, but there’s some blood.”

There’s a pause.

“Is it...bad?”

As it were, guard or not, Stan had never really gotten over his aversion to blood. Kyle rolls his eyes, and before Butters can even answer, replies, “Don’t be a pussy, Stan. It’s not that bad.”

And with that Stan finally enters, only to level Kyle with a glare. “Yeah, hi to you too, asshole. I’ll have you know I had to deal with your panicked mother while you were off on your little adventure.”

At his accusation, Kyle at least has the decency to appear slightly guilty. “You didn’t tell her I’m here, did you?” He asks, not bothering to mask his trepidation.

“No, _you_ can tell her yourself.” Stan crosses his arms, seeming to fill the small examination room with his presence. “I’ve had about enough of your mom for the next year, dude. I was about to skip town and try my hand at the wilderness.”

Kyle breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks, dude.”

Then Stan gives a sigh of his own, pinching the bridge of his nose as if his very existence gave him a headache. “You okay?” He looks up at him as he asks, but Kyle doesn’t miss how his gaze stays trained on his face and doesn’t shift to where Butters is tying off the last of the stitches.

“Yeah, this uh...isn’t exactly new.”

Stan rolls his eyes. “I told you to let Butters look at that before you left. How about next time you stop being a stubborn idiot and listen to your best friend.”

“Sure thing, mom.”

“Don’t compare me to your mother, I’m still recovering.”

Kyle is about to retort when he’s cut off by Butters’ slightly alarmed tone. “Wait, you went outside the town with your arm all bent out of shape like this?”

Shit, he’d almost forgotten Butters was even in here, despite the work being done on his arm. Giving him a sheepish smile, Kyle supplies a simple, “I bandaged it myself before I left.” Of course, Butters just continues giving him a disapproving stare, looking as if he was going to get started on another lecture. But before he can start, Kyle quickly takes control of the situation. He needed everyone to be calm if he was going to breach the subject that he needed to, pride and personal opinions be damned. “I thought I had it handled, but I didn’t. It was stupid of me and next time I’ll make sure to let you know. Okay?”

Butters’ lips remain etched in a disapproving line, but he gives a stiff nod before returning to his work.

“So, dude, Token told me you were looking for me?” Stan says, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “There a reason, or did you just want to stop me from running to your mom?”

“No there’s a reason,” he says slowly, pausing to spare a glance at Butters. The guy had a heart of gold and he knew he would never sell him out, but he was a terrible liar on a good day and he was still unsure if he wanted to risk bringing the topic up around him. Not to mention that the topic was a dangerous one, and Butters wasn’t exactly someone he felt comfortable dragging into it. Luckily, Stan makes that decision for him.

“Anything you say to me you can say in front of Butters.” He gives him an odd look before straightening from the wall. “You know that. What’s up, dude? You’re acting weird.”

“I found...something,” Kyle says after a moment, struggling for a bridge between vagueness and believability. “No, _someone_. I...it’d be easier to show you, but we’d have to go outside the walls.”

He watches as Stan and Butters exchange a glance, before Stan fixes him with a hard look. His best friend was one of the nicest guys he knew and usually never pushed for information, but enough time in the guard could give anyone one hell of an intimidating look. Kyle just wasn’t so used to it being turned on him. Well _shit_ , did he mess this up already?

“I...can’t really say more. I’m sorry. But Stan, I could _really_ use your help.”

Stan meets his eyes, searching. Kyle knows exactly what he’s thinking, because if there was one thing that everyone knew it was that Kyle Broflovski _never_ asked for help. Stubborn to a fault, always had been. But as much as he was loathe to admit it, Kyle couldn’t do this alone. Not even with as much as he wanted to protect the few friends he had from the mess he’d gotten himself into. And besides, he wasn’t asking for himself, he was asking for _Kenny_. And that fact alone made all the difference.

By the time Stan answers, Butters has finished the last of the stitches and is busy applying some sort of ointment over the wound, a cloth bandage resting in his other hand. “Okay,” Stan concedes with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what this is about, but I’ll trust you on this.”

Kyle gives him a relieved smile. “Thanks, Stan.”

“So, when did you want to leave?” Stan asks, getting straight to business, likely unwilling to be away from his guard duties for too long. Luckily, the willingness to get going is something that very welcome in Kyle’s current situation.

“Now, if we can?” He turns to the other party in the room. “Butters, you’re just about done right?”

Butters, who had been in the middle of securing his bandage, gives him another displeased look. Damn, at this rate he was probably at record breaking disapproval with the normally cheerful blond, and here he’d thought Stan would be his biggest problem. Still, he supposes he should have expected this. Butters cared an awful lot about the few friends he’d gathered who gave him the time of day and actually visited him, and he wasn’t about to be too keen on letting one run off right after he’d patched him up. Maybe it would’ve been better to go straight to Stan, but it was too late for that now.

“Yep,” he says, but with a hint of annoyance clearly lacing his tone. Securing the bandage, he pulls back and levels them both with a stern look. “But you fellas are takin’ me with ya.”

Kyle is about to protest but Stan cuts him off before he even gets the chance. “Butters-”

“No, Stanley.” He frowns and places his hands on his hips in a stance that Kyle suspects is supposed to appear resolute. “Y'all can’t just come around here being all cryptic and then expect me to just let you fellas go out there without me. I ain’t a fan of worryin’, so if this is safe enough for you to bring Stan around, then I’m goin’ too.”

At his words, Stan fixes Kyle with another look. “ _Is_ it safe?”

Guilt coils around his gut before he even utters the word, “Yes.”

It is a lie.

It is a lie, but he can’t risk the chance of explaining. Can’t even hope to tell them how it’s not what they’re going to find that’s dangerous, but what will happen after. Can’t afford hesitance on a yes or no question when he’s already asking Stan for so much blind faith. But as much as he wanted to, he also couldn’t afford them the entire truth because, more than anyone, Kyle knew exactly what the truth sounded like. Hell, only a week ago, had Stan come to him and told him that he needed help bringing a cyborg into the town, he would’ve thrown him to the town’s resident therapist without a second thought. But that was before he met Kenny, and he was certain that if they’d only get the chance to meet him then they’d understand.

It was the only hope he had.

***

In the end, despite both his and Stan’s protests, Butters adamantly refuses to be left behind and ends up trailing alongside them as they exit the town. At first, Kyle thought they might have trouble leaving the walls, only bounty hunters were permitted outside after all, but Stan says a few words to the guard in charge of the gate, one that had taken Token’s place and who Kyle faintly recognized but didn’t know all that well. And whatever he says clearly works, because the next thing he knows the gates are opening and Stan is ushering him and Butters through.

“How’d you get them to open the gates for us?” Kyle asks, once they’re several paces outside of the wall.

Stan laughs and lightly bumps his shoulder with his. “It wasn’t really that hard, dude. Contrary to what you may think, most people just don’t _want_ to leave town.”

And most of their walk Kyle finds himself mulling over that fact, not quite sure what to do with that new information.

His thoughts become his own private company as he leads the two to where he’d left Kenny. Not far, but far enough that after a while Stan starts giving him questioning looks again, likely having never ventured this far outside before. Butters, granted, doesn’t seem too concerned, prattling off about this and that to Stan as he takes in the world outside in a cross between childlike-wonder and curiosity.

Still, to Kyle’s relief they don’t ask any more questions after he responds with only curt and vague answers to their initial ones, and they continue to follow him without comment.

It’s only when he reaches the place he’d last left Kenny that his steps slow, coming to a halt as he gazes around the area in confusion.

“Kenny?” He asks, a faint seed of worry starting to sprout as he catches no sight of the familiar orange hoodie or the pack that he’d left with him. Where the hell did he go? He couldn’t have been-

But before he can think the worst, his thoughts are cut off in place of pure surprise as a quick rustle of branches overhead suddenly signal a familiar form dropping down directly in front of him.

Kyle jumps back with a startled yelp, nearly falling backwards and grasping for his gun before he recognizes the giggling laughter of none other than Kenny.

He should have fucking known.

Unable to gather words as his heart pounds viciously in his chest, Kyle can do nothing other than glare at the stupid blond.

“Hey stranger, ya miss me?” Kenny manages to get out between his giggles. He shoots him a lopsided smile. “I call that one revenge, ain’t so fun to have someone dropping out from the sky right in front of you, now is it?”

Unable to keep up the glare in the presence of Kenny’s familiar warmth and laughter, Kyle settles on an indignant pout. “You’ve been planning that.”

Kenny shrugs, but there’s a telling mischievousness in his gaze. “Only since I met you. Must say, I’m a little disappointed though. A pick-up line would have been nice. Especially after I just went through all that trouble to fall for you.”

Kyle snorts.

“I think you already have that covered,” he says, earning a wink from Kenny.

“I think I just might.”

Behind him there’s the sudden sound of someone clearing their throat, and Kyle grimaces, having almost forgotten about his current company.

He watches as Kenny gives the two people standing behind him a smile and a wave, before turning back to Kyle with a meaningful jerk of his head and a single question in his eyes.

_Do they know?_

Kyle gives a small shake of his head, and Kenny immediately stiffens, hiding his clear change of mood with another smile towards the other two. But Kyle doesn’t miss the tension in his shoulders or the calculating look in his eye as if planning a way out in case things went badly. And Kyle wishes he could reassure him, that he could grab his hand and use it to help calm them both. But now wasn’t the time for such things. Even if Stan and Butters had drawn any conclusions from their earlier exchange, it was better not to give them any concrete proof of their actual relationship. It’d make Kenny’s true nature a little easier to swallow that way.

At least, that was the thought.

Taking a deep breath, Kyle takes a step towards Stan and Butters. He makes sure to angle himself so he’s slightly in front of Kenny, but not enough to be outright noticeable. “Stan, Butters, this is Kenny. He’s looking for something inside the wall and needs our help getting in.”

“Heya, Kenny!” Butters chirps without so much as missing a beat. “It’s real nice to meet’cha!”

But as he’d expected, Stan isn’t so easily convinced. He watches as his eyes narrow first at Kyle, then at Kenny slightly behind him. “What aren’t you telling us?” He asks warily.

Kyle chances a glance at Kenny who gives him a curt nod. This was about as good as it was going to get, no use drawing out the inevitable.

“Well, Kenny is...a cyborg. A...very well known cyborg.”

For a moment there’s silence, a pause when everyone seems to hold their breath as the words sink in. And then Stan springs into action, grabbing Butters’ arm and yanking him behind him. Kyle barely resists the urge to do the same with Kenny, but holds back when he realizes that doing so would only add fuel to the fire. If he was asking Stan to trust him, he was going to have to show that he trusted him enough not to do anything.

And whether it’s that action alone or something else that stops Stan from outright drawing his weapon is a mystery. But he doesn’t, and Kyle couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“Butters, stay behind me,” Stan says roughly before turning an accusing gaze to Kyle, something that’s so uncharacteristic of him that it momentarily halts him in place. “Explain,” he says, tone hard, and Kyle flinches. Stan might have been a big softie as well as his best friend, but he was also a guard. A guard whose first priority was always going to be the safety of his town. _Shit_ , was it a mistake bringing him here?

But he couldn’t give up on him yet. Stan was still his best friend, and that had to mean something. He just needed to get him to see reason.

“Stan,” Kyle starts out, raising his hand and attempting his best to be placating. “This isn’t what you think.”

If anything, his words only manage to make Stan’s expression to harden further. “No? Then tell me what this is, Kyle. Because the way this looks from here you just took Butters and I from town so you could put us at the mercy of some cyborg. And better yet, you’re asking me to help you take him into town. Have you gone fucking insane?” His tone starts to escalate as the walls fall and give way to confusion and panic. “I know you’ve been off lately, but _goddammit_ Kyle, _what_ were you _thinking_? Is _this_ why you’ve been gone so long?”

“Yes, it is,” he answers slowly, doing his best to stay calm and reasonable. “Kenny was my bounty but I had to bring him in alive. I was already injured though, you know that, so I couldn’t carry him and we had to walk the rest of the way. But in that time I got to _know_ him, Stan, and I’m telling you that he’s nothing like what they told us. He’s _human_. _Just_ like us.”

To his immediate disappointment, Stan only shakes his head.

“He has you fooled, dude. That’s what they’ve always warned us about.”

“I know what all the reports say, Stan!” Kyle snaps, pure frustration making it hard to reign in his temper. “ _Fuck_ , I was the one who tutored you on it half the time! You _know_ me, you know I wouldn’t even dare lead you two out here if I wasn’t completely sure.”

After a moment, Stan just pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves out a heavy sigh. “Listen Kyle, I won’t tell anyone about this. Just come back to town with me and Butters and we’ll just forget this ever happened.”

And of course, what he offers is exceedingly generous. Kyle was well aware of this. Here he was having just proved he’d been having treasonous thoughts, and Stan, a guard, was willing to forget all of that in the interest of friendship.

But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

“No, not without Kenny.”

“ _Kyle_ ,” Stan says his name like a curse and throws his arms up in a hopeless gesture. “I don’t know what you want me to do. There are rules, _laws_ , do you know how much trouble I could get into for this? How much trouble _Butters_ could get into? Or _you_? You’re asking me to put not only us, but the entire town at risk.” The warring edge finally leaves Stan’s tone, replacing it with a plea to be heard. For Kyle to only stop playing hero and see reason so that he wouldn’t have to choose between his best friend and what he was sworn to protect.

It’s enough to spur Kyle to do the very same.

“ _No_ , I’m asking you to trust me. You know I’ve killed more robots than you ever have, you know that it’s my entire goddamn job. But I’m telling you that Kenny is different. And that maybe...we were wrong about them.”

At Kyle’s final softly muttered words, Stan releases a tired sigh, looking more exhausted than he had ever seen him. “Dude, I do trust you. And I’d have your back on nearly anything, but this-“

“ _Please_ , Stan.”

Kyle meets his eyes and puts everything he can’t possibly put into words in that gaze. Stan still seems torn, and he glances at Butters as if looking for his opinion on all of this. The blond just gives him a small smile and a nod, and it’s then that Stan’s shoulders finally slump in defeat. It’s in that moment he finally gives in.

“Okay, fine,” he finally utters, causing hope and relief to bloom throughout Kyle’s chest. Still, it is a decision filled with hesitance, and his gaze doesn’t lose its hardened edge. “But if _anything_ happens, if he gets discovered or someone ends up dead then all bets are off and I’ll do what I have to. I’m trusting your judgment on this Kyle, don’t make me regret it.”

“You won’t,” Kyle breathes, smile shaky. “Thanks, Stan.”

He doesn’t return his smile but gives him a curt nod before crossing his arms and getting right to business. “Alright, so what did you need me to do?”

“I...was hoping you might be able to help me with that,” he admits slowly. “I need to get him in, but they’ll know something’s up the moment they don’t recognize him.” Without meaning to he begins to pace as he talks, rambling off everything he’d been thinking about on his journey here to the one person who’d be able to help. “Not only that but walking in with the very infamous cyborg I was tasked with hunting down might raise a few brows if word ever gets out. Even if the guards don’t recognize him, a few telling words to a bounty hunter and it’d be over. And that’s not even considering what a shitshow it’d be if one of the guards did somehow recognize him, or if a bounty hunter was by the gates in the first place, or-”

“Kyle, darlin’ you’re starting to make me dizzy.”

He shoots a glare over to Kenny, but it shifts into a look of surprise when he hears Stan’s amused snort. Even Stan seems surprised, if also a bit sheepish, if the way he immediately claps a hand over his mouth is to be any indication. Of course, he’d find Kenny’s sudden comment funny, Stan was always giving Kyle shit for his tendency to pace a hole into the floor as he ranted or spoke about something that had been bothering him. It’s why Stan always had a pile of rocks ready for when he visited him up on the guard tower nowadays. Better to throw stones than to pace around like a crazy person... or something. Bastard.

Still, he can’t stay mad when the prospect that his best friend might just be warming up to Kenny sits in the air. But as soon as Kyle can feel his lips curling up into a smirk, Stan coughs a bit awkwardly.

“Uh, so since I’m with you they probably won’t ask too many questions. So that’s um, good. Butters being here might also help with that...maybe.” He grimaces. “Just don’t let him talk. No offense Butters, but you’re a terrible liar.”

“Lyin’ always makes me feel real guilty,” Butters confirms.

“Right. And you’re right Kyle, we can’t have him walk in, they’d want to question him. And for now it’s better if no one gets too close.”

“So...we carry him?” Kyle says the first logical thing that comes to mind, but the minute the words are out his and Stan’s eyes connect and they smile as they both seem to be thinking the same thing. “Found someone injured on the road...” Kyle begins, grin widening.

“Had to carry him in,” Stan adds.

“Butters demanded we take him straight to his clinic.”

“In a bit of a hurry, no time to answer questions.”

“They’ll forget about it the minute after it happens.”’

“It might just work,” Stan concludes.

“It has to,” Kyle finishes.

“Uh guys,” Kenny speaks up for the first time since they’d come together, and all eyes simultaneously shoot over to him. “As cute as this all is, there’s one problem. The focus is still gonna be on me, which brings us back to the problem that if anyone says anything to the wrong person they’ll know not only what I am but also exactly where to find us.”

Kyle and Stan exchange another look.

“Your hoodie,” Kyle speaks up first. “Pull up the hood and draw the drawstrings tight. It’ll be a bit suspicious, but if things go the way they’re supposed to and no one asks questions then it’ll be better than them seeing anything that could give you away.”

Kenny nods, and reaches back to pull up his hood, but before he gets it all the way over his head he hesitates, biting his lip and sliding the material between his fingers. “Thanks for this, guys,” he says, looking to the three of them. “You didn’t have to do this for me but I...I really appreciate it.”

It’s not exactly a secret how Kenny’s gaze mainly focuses on Stan, but before Stan can say anything, Butters speaks up.

“Any friend of Kyle is a friend of ours,” he says simply. And Kyle can’t stop the lump from forming in his throat at the honestly spoken words, especially when Stan nods his agreement with a small smile. He’d owe a lot to these two after this, maybe he’d buy them both ice-cream or something. Hell, for this maybe he’d buy them ice-cream every day for the rest of their lives. It was the least he could do.

The answer seems to also please Kenny, because the tension in his shoulders finally seems to ease and his eyes sparkle with a familiar mischief. “Alright,” he says, “so who gets the honor of carrying me?”

Kyle immediately steps forward, only to send Stan a glare when he does the same from beside him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Kyle challenges. “I’ll carry him.”

“Dude, you’re injured. Butters literally just did all that work giving you stitches and I’m not going to have you mess it up because of some jealousy issue.”

“I do not have a jealousy issue!”

“Overprotective then.”

“It’s not that either! I just...want to, okay?” Kyle crosses his arms and raises his chin. “And I’m perfectly capable.”

“Capable my ass. This is just like before, if you wouldn’t be so goddamn stubborn-”

Their argument is cut short by the sound of Kenny’s laughter, and they both look over surprised only to see Butters easily scoop Kenny up into his arms.

They both blanch.

“Jesus christ, Butters,” Stan wheezes, eyes wide. Butters, seeming unimpressed, just fixes them both with his best stern look.

“Now if you two are done fightin’, I’d like to be back in my clinic before nightfall.”

“Oh Kyle,” Kenny manages in between his giggles. “I think I found myself a new man.”

Only it’s Stan who answers as he steps towards the two with a frown. “Shut up, cyborg. You’re not his type.”

Kenny just snickers and Butters looks between them with clear exasperation. “Fellas, please.”

But it’s without a word that Kyle steps up to them and adjusts Kenny’s hood around his face, pursing his lips as he tugs at the drawstrings so it would be held in place a bit more snugly. A small reassurance that it wouldn’t suddenly slip off the minute they crossed through the gates. He hated to admit it, but if they figured out what he really was he’d be powerless to save him. Not with that many guards and that many guns pointed in their direction.

“Kyle?” Kenny says his name a bit nervously, and when Kyle meets his eyes he sees no small amount of concern there. Whether that concern was for Kyle’s sudden silence or if it was for whatever emotion could be found in his expression at the moment was uncertain. “I was only teasing, sweetheart.” The words come out muffled, but Kyle doesn’t have any trouble understanding him. Instead he gives him a reassuring smile, despite the small bout of panic still twirling around his gut and gives his forehead a light flick. In revenge for earlier maybe, or maybe just to see Kenny’s gaze switch from concern to amusement.

“Yeah I know.” He tells him softly, before stepping back and addressing both him and Butters. “You two go ahead, we’ll be right behind you.”

Butters gives him a nod and then starts heading towards the town. Kyle stays where he is, waiting until a familiar presence comes up beside him.

“‘ _Sweetheart_ ’?”

To his credit, Stan looks more amused than offended and the change of mood is a welcome relief. It’s as much of an apology that he’d get for their earlier spat, in the form of a chance to return to what they once were, to their old pattern of friendship. To the easy jibes and banter that they’d always shared.

Kyle immediately takes the offer, and returns Stan’s smirk with one of his own.

“Problem?”

“I thought you hated pet names?” Kyle throws him a glowering look and Stan laughs. They continue walking after the two blonds for a bit before Stan speaks up again. “This whole thing’s just a little surreal, you know? Like if someone told me this morning that Kyle Broflovski was going to be coming back from his latest adventure throwing googly-eyed looks at a cyborg, I would have been _highly_ skeptical.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” At his question, Kyle just hums but doesn’t answer. “Really Kyle, you do know how much trouble we’d get in for this, right?”

“I’m aware,” Kyle answers quietly without an ounce of hesitation. This was something that he’d always known, something he’d already considered. “But I’ll take the fall, Stan. Tell them I forced you guys into this or something. Lied to you maybe? I don’t know, I’d figure something out if it came down to it. Don’t worry.”

Stan is silent for a while after that. A thoughtful kind of silence where Kyle can practically hear him thinking, but he doesn’t begrudge him that. After all, he’d just thrown a hell of a lot at him at once, and it was only logical that he’d need to run a few things through his head.

It’s only when the town wall once again towers overhead, and the curious faces of the wall guards come into view that Stan finally speaks.

“So, he’s worth it, huh?”

And Kyle doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about. His gaze automatically drifts to where Kenny’s form sits within Butters’ arms and he can’t suppress a gentle smile at the sight of him. “Yeah,” he answers just as quietly. “He’s worth it.”


	6. Crossroads

It was a bit funny how certain things that once meant safety, could so suddenly give off the impression of a death trap.

The walls surrounding the town had never felt so ominous. Had never felt more intended to keep things _in_ rather to keep them out. The gates open and one by one they enter: first Stan, then Butters with Kenny, then Kyle bringing up the rear, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his gun.

Not that it mattered.

The guns held by guards meant to protect the townsfolk could be pointed at them in the blink of an eye. He wouldn’t even get a chance to pull the trigger before...before the _threat_ was eliminated.

...Guess that made them the threat then. All his fault of course. Convincing a guard and the town doctor to do the unthinkable. Here he was, dragging his friends possibly to their deaths. An executioner. Murderer. If only his father could see him now.

_Are you proud of me yet, dad?_

He barely conceals a scoff at the thought.

As if he ever was.

The gate resounds behind them with a deafening boom. Butters flinches, and he even sees Stan give a slight wince at the sound despite the fact he’d been the very person opening and closing those gates dozens of times. But this time it was different. They all felt it. But Kyle only grits his teeth and straightens his back. There was nothing they could do now, all that was left to do was wait.

A guard approaches them, but it’s not someone he knows. He’d seen him before sure, but he’d never really cared enough to learn his name.

The guy and Stan exchange a few words that Kyle can’t quite overhear. But he does spot the change in Stan’s expression, friendliness turning to something stoic. As if trying to mask another emotion from being seen.

And then the man pulls out the scanner.

Kyle’s heart drops, plummeting straight to his toes. Shit.

Shit, shit, _shit_.

This wasn’t good.

He’d been banking on Stan’s presence being enough, that he could maybe say something or do something that could get them to skip this step. Stan had likely thought the same. But he supposed all guards were a little different, the luck of the draw, as it were. And as the scanner slides down Stan’s stoic face and down to his feet Kyle realizes that the level of distrust for the outside and even each other was more prominent than either of them had thought.

Without his control he finds his gaze flickering over to Kenny. His heartbeat slows as he runs a thousand things through his mind. Stan would want him to protect Butters, but would it be possible to take Kenny from him without immediately elighting more suspicion? He needed to buy them time, not make every single guard suspicious before they even had to be. Butters and Stan needed to get safely out of this whole mess, while he...he’d... _fuck_.

He supposes it had always been a bit of a dumb thing to hope things could be easy. Nothing was _ever_ easy, not in his life.

Kyle attempts meeting either Butters’ or Kenny’s gaze. Wonders whether they even realized what that scanner meant for them, but Butters was busy looking towards Stan and Kenny…seemed to be focusing on something else. Something...under his sleeve?

No...he couldn’t be that _stupid_.

But sure enough, just then there’s a loud curse from the guard with the scanner. Kyle tears his gaze from Kenny only to see the man fixing a baffled gaze on the device. “What the…?” The guard hits it against his hand. “Damn finicky thing…”

Kyle’s gaze narrows slightly and immediately finds its way back to Kenny. He was perfectly still again, as if nothing had happened. But Kyle knew better. _That little…_

His fist clenches at his side, but he stays stock-still as he turns his gaze back towards the guard who was still fiddling with the damned thing.

“Look,” Stan tells the man not a moment later, tone managing to stay composed despite their near crisis and the relief he had to be feeling. “We really don’t have time for this. We have to get him to the clinic.” He nods over to the motionless orange blob in Butters arms and the guard takes one last look at his scanner before he shoves the thing back into his pocket.

“Yeah alright,” the guy says, “but only because he’s with you guys. I’m pretty sure you’d all know a person from a bundle of oil and bolts, right?” He laughs then, and Kyle has to push down the temptation to punch him.

To punch _something_.

But he restrains himself. Holding in his anger as Stan quickly thanks the guard and then immediately takes the lead again as they proceed through the checkpoint and finally enter town.

Once through, their steps don’t slow as they hurry down streets and walkways, weaving past people in a fashion that would have been appropriately fitting had they actually been carrying a badly injured person with them. But even as the clinic comes into view, Kyle is still tense with barely concealed hurt and anger. A constant presence that only grows as he’s left alone with his thoughts.

As soon as they enter the clinic and the door shuts and locks behind them, Kyle snaps.

“Take off your jacket,” he demands, immediately whirling on Kenny. Caught off guard, the normally graceful blond actually stumbles as he hits the ground, having been caught in the middle of removing himself from Butters’ arms.

All three pairs of eyes immediately turn to Kyle in varying degrees of shock, but Kyle only focuses his glare on Kenny who seems to crumple slightly under the heat of his gaze.

“Damn, we’re behind closed doors for less than three seconds and you’re already telling me to strip,” Kenny immediately quips, but his smile is bit shaky in the light of his obvious deflection. “I mean not that I’m complaining, but there are other people around. And I never really considered exhibitionism.”

“Kenny, _now_.”

“But you know, I’m really liking this new side of you,” he continues rambling as if Kyle hadn’t spoken at all. “Never thought I’d be into the whole getting ordered around thing either, but I think even that might be working for me.”

Kyle just continues glaring and crosses his arms. Waiting.

“Kyle, what’s this about?” Stan asks, speaking up a bit tentatively.

“He knows. And he’s stalling.”

And with that, Kenny finally sighs, shoulders sinking in defeat. “It’s really not a big deal…” He mumbles as he pulls off his orange jacket.

But the glinting metal revealed on his arm tells a far different story. The sight of it causing even Stan to stiffen in realization, something that was most definitely not needed in their current uncertain situation based solely on trust.

Kyle exhales through his nose, trying his best to reign in his anger and hear him out. There had to be a good reason for this. There _better fucking be_ a good reason for this.

“Kenny,” he says, tone deathly calm. “Why did you bring your cybernetic sleeve in here?”

If anyone were to find that, were to even _suspect_ that they had one they’d be completely fucked. It was one thing to guard a cyborg with some numbers on the back of his neck and a chip inside his head, and another thing to be hiding one that was armed with actual tech. There’d be no talking Butters and Stan’s way out of that one, they’d _all_ go down.

And even if that thing did save them at the checkpoint, Kenny should have at least told them. Should have _trusted_ them. Should have trusted _him_.

They couldn’t be keeping secrets like this. Not now.

“Only part of it!” Kenny defends. ”The rest is hidden with your pack, and you didn’t even know that I had it so it’s not like anyone else was going to.” He then gives him a small lopsided smile, roguishly innocent and nearly impossible to stay mad at. “And it also just saved our asses, so you’re welcome.”

“I’m not thanking you,” Kyle snips, crossing his arms and turning away from his stupid face with a prominent frown. But despite everything the full force of his anger is almost gone, replaced with the much more honest hurt and worry.

As if sensing his weakening defense, Kenny slowly sidles up to him. But Kyle shoots him a look and takes a meaningful step back, causing Kenny to stop his approach with a frown. “Come on, don’t be like that,” he pleads. “Look at the bright side, we made it through!”

“You should have told me,” is Kyle’s only answer, still refusing to look at him.

“Would you have let me bring it?”

“No, because it was stupid,” he snaps back. “Having that in here puts all of us in more danger. And-”

“Hey, what the hell?!”

Kyle spins around at the sound of Kenny’s surprised yelp, only to see Stan roughly grabbing at his arm that housed the piece of tech.

“Let go of him, Stan,” Kyle warns, instantly redirecting his anger towards his best friend.

But Stan ignores his threat, leaning in to peer closely at the device.

“It’s simple tech, not weapon grade,” he says after a moment, releasing Kenny’s arm and taking a step back. “More of an interface.”

“Yeah, I could have told you that without manhandling me,” Kenny mutters, rubbing at his arm.

Stan shrugs. “Just doing my job, dude.”

Kenny turns back towards Kyle with a small apologetic smile. “I just didn’t want to come in here blind, you know?” He says with a slight shrug, yet finally looks a bit guilty about the whole thing. And at his apology Kyle allows the last of his defense to drop, giving Kenny a glimpse at the hurt lying beneath.

“You’re not in here blind,” he tells him, tone softer than intended. “You have me.”

They were in this together after all, weren’t they? He’d promised to get him through this, so was it too much to ask for a little trust?

For a moment Kenny seems honestly stunned, and there’s something soft and fond that crosses his expression, something that causes that familiar flutter to stir in Kyle’s gut. Then it’s gone, replaced by his signature smirk as he crosses of his arms. “So, let me get this straight,” Kenny says, tone filled with amusement. “You would have what? Punched the scanner out of his hand and ran?”

Before Kyle can even respond Stan lets out a snicker. Traitor.

“Probably would have glared at him until he dropped the thing,” Stan suggests.

“Kyle does have an awfully scary glare,” Butters adds in, speaking up for the first time since they’d entered the clinic.

Kyle levels that ‘awfully scary’ glare at all of them. “I hate you guys.”

But with that, the tenseness in the air finally dissipates and a quiet relief fills the room. They’d done it. It hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but they’d gotten Kenny through the checkpoint and at least for now, they were safe.

“So, what are you going to do with your boyfriend now that he’s through?” Stan asks, leaning against the wall. Although the moment the words leave his mouth he fixes Kyle with a hard look. “And before you ask, _no_ , I’m not hiding him at my place.”

“I was hoping he could stay here?” Kyle says with a slight shrug, to which Stan immediately shakes his head.

“Kyle, no. He can’t live here.”

Wait, did Stan think that he…

Oh.

Not really wanting to talk about the very thing he was trying to avoid even thinking about, Kyle lowers his gaze. “It’s only temporary,” he says, tone a tinge too quiet. “For a day or two.”

“What about after that?” Stan presses, still not getting it.

_You’d really let him go after all of this?_

“There is no after,” Kenny speaks up when Kyle doesn’t immediately answer. “I’ll only be here for a few days at most. I’m trying to find someone, it’s...kind of a long story, but once I find her I’ll be out of your hair and you won’t have to worry about me ever again.”

There’s a stretch of silence and then Stan tentatively asks, “And you’re leaving...alone?”

And although the subject itself was about Kenny finding someone he’d been searching for, judging by the way that Stan glances at Kyle it’s clear it’s not the girl he was worried about leaving with him. But Kyle couldn’t, not even if he wanted to. Stan should have known that.

“Yeah,” answers Kenny.

And despite the fact that he can practically feel the weight of Stan’s gaze on him, Kyle can’t make himself meet Stan’s eyes.

“Well it’s nearly sundown,” Stan says after a moment, successfully putting an end to their sudden awkward silence. “And I’ve got to go report in anyway, so why don’t you guys call it a night and I can help you go out and look tomorrow?”

It sounded like as good an idea as any. It’d been one hell of a long day, a long past few days at that, and Kyle could really use a good shower and some sleep. And judging by Kenny’s expression, he also agreed.

“Yeah,” Kyle voices. “That sounds good.”

***

A few hours later finds Kyle standing in front of the door to Butters’ guest room. Well, technically it was an examination room, or at least it used to be until Stan started spending a lot of his nights visiting Butters back when their relationship hadn’t gone outside the bounds of friendship. According to Butters, he’d ever only needed three examination rooms anyway, so he’d converted the fourth into a guest room of sorts. One that Kyle found he was suddenly very thankful for.

Kyle gives the door three light knocks. “Hey, can I come in?”

Almost immediately he hears the sound of footsteps hastily approaching the door before it swings open revealing a grinning and freshly showered Kenny. The sight of him without the ash and dirt dusting his hair and skin makes Kyle’s throat go dry as he can’t stop his gaze from wandering across his body. His cleanliness was of course courtesy of Butters shower, which Kyle himself had just come from after talking to Butters in the lounge while Kenny had been tasked with getting himself cleaned up and throwing his clothes in the wash. Now devoid of his signature orange hoodie, he was wearing clothes he had borrowed from Butters that were about a size too big for him.

Still, he looked _good_.

“You just gonna stand there and check me out all day, or are you coming in?” Kyle’s gaze shoots up to Kenny’s face only to find his lips curled into a smug smirk. Still, Kyle wasn’t about to let him win this one, especially since he was pretty sure he’d just seen Kenny doing the same to him. Not to mention the constant shameless comments about his ass he’d been receiving since the day they met.

So, instead he matches his smug expression and crosses his arms. “You never told me I could,” he shoots back, earning an amused look in return.

“I thought the open door would have gotten the point across.”

And at that, some of Kyle’s bravado falls. There was exactly one guest room, one bed, and although they’d definitely become something more than friends they still hadn’t put a label on it and…

Kyle lowers his gaze, mindlessly rubbing at the back of his neck to hide his sudden nerves.

...And if he was being honest he really wasn’t positive what that meant. He’d never been good at relationships, hadn’t even tried dating anyone for years after the two short ones he’d had in the past had ended in spectacular failure. A failure that was always entirely on him of course.

And he really didn’t want to add this one to that list.

“Well,” Kyle says lowly, “it wasn’t until after you’d left that I realized I’d just assumed we’d be sharing a room and-“

“Ky,” Kenny cuts him off, gaze softening. “Just get in here already.”

Kyle nods, not having to be told twice. He enters the small room, turning to watch as Kenny closes and then locks the door behind him.

Kyle raises a brow at that.

“For safety,” Kenny answers with a small smile in response to his silent question. And with him, Kyle really couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Right.”

Kenny walks past him and stretches, the arch of his spine only slightly distracting. “Have to say, it took your ass long enough,” he says. “What were you and Butters talking about?”

“You mostly,” Kyle admits truthfully. Butters had been asking a shit ton of questions about cyborgs, only half of them that Kyle even had the faintest clue of. It was enough that Kyle suspected Butters would probably be bugging Kenny about it if they were to stay here another night, because by the time Kyle left him to retreat to his own shower Butters had looked anything but satisfied. “Apparently he’s always been a little fascinated with robots and cyborgs.” He shrugs. “Who knew?”

But Kenny doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he just nods, looking distracted. Almost contemplative. As if he was thinking hard about something.

“Everything okay?”

Kenny glances up at him. “Yeah, it’s just...a lot sometimes. Seeing how people live.” His lips quirk into a sad little smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in one of these.”

“A clinic?”

He shakes his head. “A building.”

Understanding sinks in and Kyle’s heart twists painfully in his chest.

“...Oh.”

But Kenny only huffs out a small laugh. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s really not so bad, not once you get used to it.”

Still, there’s a sudden lump in his throat and Kyle does his best to swallow it down. And he can’t stop himself from voicing his next thought.

“So, once you go back you’re not going to...miss anything?” Kyle asks softly, eyes downcast. “Just a return to your regular old life?”

“Now, I didn’t say that.” Kenny walks up to him, pressing himself close. Slowly he leans in and their lips connect, sliding against each other in a slow and lingering rhythm. Kyle sighs into his mouth and wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him in closer. Kenny obliges and they're both breathless by the time they finally break apart. “You can come visit me, you know,” Kenny breathes, resting his forehead against his. “Anytime you want.”

Kyle can’t stop his lips from quirking into a small smile. He runs a hand down Kenny’s back until he reaches the dip of his spine, where he then stops and taps his fingers mindlessly.

“Yeah?”

Kenny makes a noise of confirmation, his fingers toying with the hair at the back of Kyle’s neck. “And once we find that girl I’m looking for, you can give me updates on her,” he tells him softly. “I’ll make you play messenger. We can have camping trips together and maybe I’ll even get you to carry me across the river so we can see what’s on the other side.”

And despite everything, their circumstances and the opposition of the world they’d found themselves in, Kyle locks his gaze with Kenny’s and within his eyes he finds nothing but hope. Maybe not hope for their future, and maybe not even hope for the very things that had just fallen from his own mouth, because Kyle knew Kenny wasn’t naive and that he wasn’t one for blind faith. But instead, Kyle knows deep down that his every word is said entirely for Kyle’s sake. So that Kyle, the hopeless pessimist that he was, might somehow find something in there to believe in.

And in truth, it did sound impossible.

There were so many uncertainties, so many things that he had no answer to. What was he going to do for money? _Could_ he even stay a bounty hunter after this? And that was if everything worked out as planned. If Kenny was discovered then-

“I’d like that,” Kyle finds himself saying, stopping his thoughts before they got carried away. Allowing himself to take in Kenny’s warmth and his light and to hold it close to him.

“Things are going to be okay,” Kenny promises. “You’ll see.”

And for a moment, just a moment, Kyle allows himself to believe it could be true.

It’s in that exact moment that Kyle’s suddenly overcome with something so strong it’s frightening. Some all-consuming emotion that’s akin to what he had felt back in the cave, back when he’d finally given in and allowed himself to have the one thing that he wanted desperately yet was never allowed to be his. Something bright and pure and warm, and every single soul-consuming thing he felt whenever he looked at Kenny.

“Kenny…” he breathes, wanting that to be the preamble to all the words unsaid between them. And as if sensing his sudden desperation, Kenny pulls back to meet his eyes.

But through the want and the _need_ to tell him, there’s something that stops him. A small voice at the back of his head that always casts doubt on everything he‘s ever wanted. One that’s always been there since he was a kid, familiar and haunting in every sense.

_You can never have him._

And it’s that doubt that silences him. That locks up every word he wants to say and leaves him with nothing but silence.

Kenny eyes him with concern after moments pass and he still fails to say anything, and so Kyle does the only thing he can think to do.

He leans in and kisses him again.

And then again.

And _again_.

Tongue trailing across his jaw, and hands wandering down his shoulders and to any place they could reach. His motions aren’t hurried, instead every slide of his hand and slip of his tongue is slow and measured. Time was never really on their side, but they had tonight, and Kyle was going to make use of every second of it.

Eventually they find themselves to the bed, and Kyle’s quick to tug Kenny down along with him.

It’s only then that Kenny looks like he’s about to say something, pulling back to regard him with a clear question in his eyes, but Kyle softly silences him once again with his lips. Silences him before the dark thoughts have a chance to rise up again, or that inner voice has a chance to break free.

Because for someone who was usually so good with words, he was suddenly choking on them. Drowning. They were there but they held none of the eloquence they should have. Were ill-timed and unpracticed. So this...

This was the best he could do.

***

True to this word, bright and early the next morning Stan shows up at Butters’ clinic and together the four of them head out to town. There’s no plan so they simply tour the streets, waiting to see if Kenny recognized anyone as the girl from his dreams. Luckily it happens to be a pleasantly warm day out, and even a bit brighter than usual. A little less dreary and dull.

Or maybe it was just the company he was with that made it seem that way.

It was as if Kenny was seeing a completely different town than what Kyle was. He would constantly nudge him, pointing out people and things that Kyle never would have ordinarily noticed. Making jokes about some things, and finding a strange sort of beauty in others. It was the simplest things; graffiti Kyle had never noticed decorating the side of a building, or the way some guy was trying to flirt with a group of girls while being blissfully oblivious to the fact they were all laughing at him. It was as if all this time Kyle had only ever been seeing the big picture, while Kenny lived and breathed for the details.

And being with Kenny...seemed to breathe new life into the place.

It’s not until they reach the center of town that Kyle even remembers the threat looming above them. That this wasn’t just a leisurely stroll. Hell, if it wasn’t for the scarf wrapped securely around Kenny’s neck then this walk would be an entirely different story. It’s the number of people that remind him of that fact, the sheer quantities passing way too close and surrounding them instantly putting him on edge.

He’d never really liked the center of town in the first place. Too many people milling around, a cacophony of noise and movement that he never really belonged in. That always made him feel a little bit lost.

But this was much worse.

He feels eyes on him. People staring. He wraps an arm around Kenny, tugging him in closer to him and begins hurrying his steps. Stan and Butters could catch up, but right now they needed to get back onto the side streets, away from-

His thoughts are cut off by Kenny laughing against his side. “Kyle, sweetheart, slow down,” he says, tugging him to a stop. “What’s the hurry all of a sudden?”

Kyle shrugs, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed for his minor freak-out in the wake of Kenny’s clear amusement. “We need to find that girl, don’t we?”

“Well we’re not going to have a chance to find her if we just blow past every person we see,” Kenny says with a smirk. But as if sensing Kyle’s growing apprehension, his expression softens and he steps closer, gently reaching for his hand. “Come on, relax. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Right. Everything was fine.

Kyle squeezes Kenny’s hand and tries for a reassuring smile, but before any other words can be exchanged between them they’re interrupted by a third voice.

“Everything good?” Stan asks as he catches up to them with Butters in tow.

“Uh-huh,” Kenny immediately answers for them both, something in which Kyle is thankful for. He can tell Stan isn’t entirely fooled however by the questioning look he shoots him, but then Kenny is talking again, successfully nabbing his attention. “Hey, we’ve been walking around for a while, so why don’t we stop and get lunch or something? I think a break will do us good.”

And Kyle knows he agrees just a little too quickly, but he’d worry about Stan’s clear suspicion later. For now, a break sounded like a damn good idea.

***

Butters ends up choosing the cafe. It’s one that Kyle’s never been to, no surprise there, but it seems nice enough. They settle down at a table in the back where they order their food and exchange jokes and normal banter like it was something they did every day. And the whole scene is so... _normal_. Kenny’s frequent teasing of Stan. Stan’s half amused and half exasperated tone at his antics. And Butters who tries his best to offer input, although it’s usually only partly relevant to the actual topic. It’s almost as if it had always been like this. Achingly natural. But Kyle can’t even be surprised at how quickly Butters and even Stan had warmed up to Kenny in such a short amount of time.

Kenny was just one of those people that drew people to him. Looking at life with a smile despite the circumstances, and capturing everyone with his warmth and cheer. Hell, it’d even been enough to draw Kyle himself towards him, something he couldn’t resist even with as much as he had tried.

And for a moment Kyle wonders if maybe his apprehension had been misplaced. If maybe he was being too paranoid, too pessimistic.

But then it happens.

It’s only when he glances up that he sees it. Sees _him_. A prickle of unease settling in his gut as he spots the very last person he wanted to see staring at him from across the room with something indecipherable in his gaze.

His father.

And Kyle immediately freezes under the weight of his stare.

Yet in the next second he’s suddenly freed from it, Gerald’s eyes flicking from him over to Kenny and he swears it's in that moment that his expression darkens.

But he couldn’t...there’s no way he could know. It wasn’t possible.

It’s just like Kenny said.

Everything was _fine_.

“Hey Ky, are you okay?”

He tears his gaze away from his father to look over at Kenny who was eyeing him with clear concern. Kenny. Kenny who looked completely normal, nothing like how the townspeople were told cyborgs would look like. But still he couldn’t shake away the feeling of uneasiness. The quiet foreboding that only increases when he looks back to the spot where his father once stood only to see that he’d vanished without even a word.

Logically, his father was probably just upset that he was back in town and hadn’t told him or his mom yet. Kyle knew his mother, and he could only imagine how much she had been fretting when days had passed without his return. It’d probably be for the best that he stopped home to ease her worries tonight, although he definitely wasn’t looking forward to the lecture he was sure to receive.

But on the off chance that his father wasn’t concerned about that and instead he…

He doesn’t allow himself to finish the thought and he attempts a reassuring smile although he knows it falls short. “Yeah,” he tells Kenny. “Just thought I saw something. Nothing to worry about.”

But despite his words, the unease follows him for the rest of the day.

***

That night Kyle returns home, deciding to leave Kenny in the care of Butters at the clinic. After everything he’d been feeling that day, he didn’t want Kenny anywhere near his house and his father. Yet, despite all his concerns and his waiting for his father to walk through the doors and berate him, he never shows. The door remains closed, and his seat at the dinner table empty as Kyle eats dinner with his mother and Ike.

It wasn’t exactly unusual, his dad’s absence from their home had become more and more frequent as the days and years passed. Frequent enough that even his worry-driven mom had stopped fighting with her husband over it. She still set a place setting for him at the table every night, but she placed the unused dishes away afterwards with a certain amount of routine. Of resignation. There was only so much fight a person could give to a losing battle, after all. And it was only a matter of time before she likely realized that pushing the issue would only make things worse.

His father’s first love would, after all, always be his work. Even above his family.

So, Kyle tries his best not to think about it as he goes to sleep that night. Taking comfort in his own warm bed for the first time in what felt like forever, exhaustion easing him into a heavy sleep.

***

That night, he dreams.

Above him is the blue luminescent sky. The outline of the outcropping of the cave missing from the spot where it should be, the ceiling over the town in which they called home. Beneath him sits the grass, bright green and radiant, untouched by ash in a way he’d only ever seen in photographs of a world he’d never gotten the chance to know.

A dog barks off in the distance.

It calls to him for a reason he can’t really discern, and he finds himself heading towards the sound as if pulled there. But his steps are shortened by his smaller legs, body hosting the ungraceful form he’d had around the age of twelve. Still, the barking grows louder as he walks, and with every step he takes the world itself ripples, weaving in a change of scenery like rivlets in a pond.

Suddenly, he’s aware of an object being placed into the palm of his small hand.

 _“Happy birthday, Kyle,”_ comes his father’s disembodied voice. He can’t see him, but he can feel him. His looming presence. The weight of his gaze on him as Kyle looks down at the brand new gun sitting in the palm of his hand.

The world flickers, grows a shade darker. The shadow of the outcropping protecting the small amount of grass sprouting through the dirt from the constantly falling ash. His old backyard. Home.

His father’s hands rest on his shoulders and he turns him to face his target, guiding his hand to show him how to aim.

Before him the small robotic dog looks up at him, innocent and unaware of the barrel of the gun trained on it.

“I don’t want to…” Kyle sniffles, voice higher pitched as it had been in his childhood.

 _“It’s just a machine, Kyle,”_ his father’s voice resounds throughout his head. His blood. His bones. _“Don’t you want to make me proud?”_

The dog goes down with a sudden whimper and a flurry of sparks.

Through the veil of tears clouding his vision the scene morphs, his shaking hand growing larger and steadying just the smallest amount.

As the haziness fades he finds he’s no longer in his backyard but outside of the town gates. His eyes are covered by his old mask, and through its lense the eyes of a small robot girl stare pleadingly up at him. Eyes wide as they stare at the barrel of the gun aimed at her small form.

His hand tightens on the gun and he hesitates.

“I don’t think I can...” he whispers.

Behind his shoulder he can feel his father’s growing impatience. His disappointment.

 _“Don’t think,_ do _. It’s a robot, Kyle. Isn’t it about time you grew up?”_

Her eyes grow dim as she falls to the ground, the shot through her neck sparking and staining the dirt below with dark oil.

The ground grows thick and saturated, the sky above swirling with dark clouds that blot out their sun. His grip grows more steady, his fingers lengthening, and through the barrel of his gun he spots the robot who’d fought him for her life only a few days ago.

_“Will you make me proud, Kyle?”_

This time he doesn’t hesitate. The faster this was over with, the better.

“Yes.”

But as she falls with an array of sparks she shifts, changes. And suddenly the blank face lying on the ground isn’t that of the girl but of one much more familiar. The gun in his hand drops to the ground with a puff of ash as he’s suddenly looking into the broken and lifeless face of Chef.

Kyle feels the guilt deep within him, but it’s buried under resignation. None of it really mattered anyway, it was just the way things had to be.

_I’m sorry._

His father places his phantom hand on his shoulder. He can distantly feel its warmth, but he’s cold. So cold all the time.

_“You’re getting better. Might even be as good as me one day.”_

The words twist and sink in, make it a little easier to stand. There’s a firm pat on his shoulder a moment before his father presses something into his now empty palm. Slowly, Kyle looks down at the object and an indescribable feeling hits him as he finds a new gun now resting within his grasp.

One that’s stronger.

More powerful.

Familiar.

Lifting his gaze from his father’s gun, he expects to see his father himself standing there. Expects to see approval and pride and _warmth_ within his gaze. Expects to see everything he’d ever wanted. Because he fought and he fought and he _fought_ , and he’d _finally_ done enough for him. But it’s not his father he sees, instead he suddenly finds himself looking into eyes as blue as the sky.

Kyle freezes.

_No, not him. Anyone but him._

“I-”

But before another word can fall from his lips a click resounds beside his ear and he goes still.

His father presses a gun against his temple. And around them the scene changes, the flickering forms of familiar faces filling in the spaces between. They circle around them, eyes judging. Piercing through him. His friends, Stan and Butters. His family, his mother, and Ike standing among the crowd expressionless as his father holds a gun to his head.

 _“Will you turn against them?”_ Asks a familiar voice.

His gaze darts to the side where the younger version of himself watches him, bright green eyes regarding him with open curiosity.

He looks back to Kenny. He presents no argument. No plea, no fight. He only looks at him with understanding in his gaze as he waits for his choice.

Kyle’s aim wavers as his hand shakes.

 _“You could have had everything, you know?”_ He hears his younger self tell him although his gaze never strays from Kenny. _“If you’d never taken that bounty, never met him, you could have made dad proud.”_

His grip tightens on his father’s gun, and he brings his other hand up to help steady it. “I still can.”

 _“Can you?”_ His younger self asks him, sounding almost as if he’s disappointed, before fading away like dust. Leaving Kyle in the center of everything, _alone_.

Understanding blue eyes awaiting their fate.

A gun held against his temple.

The judging stares of his friends and family at his back.

 _“What will it be, Kyle?”_ Asks his father. Asks the crowd. One voice that echoes dozens. The townsfolk. Stan, Butters, Ike, his mother.

One question.

_What will it be?_

He shoots awake to the sound of his phone ringing. His ringtone blaring and surprising him into to the world of the living long before his alarm would ever get the chance to. Reaching for it with a curse, he holds the device up to his ear,

“Hello?” He mutters into the receiver, the word heavy with sleep and slightly shaky as he attempts to shake off the remnants of his nightmare.

“Fucking finally!” Stan’s voice comes through the phone a few pitches too loud, causing Kyle to wince. “This is like the third time I called, where the hell have you been?!”

“Yeah, morning to you too, asshole.”

“Kyle, Kenny’s missing.”

His blood runs cold.

“What?” He sits up, instantly awake. Dread coils in his stomach and deep down he already knows exactly what happened, still he has to ask. “What the hell do you mean he’s missing?”

“Last night, some guys broke into the clinic and attacked Butters,” Stan explains in a rush. “He’s fine, just a little bruised and shaken, but Kenny...he’s gone, Kyle. They took him.”

He doesn’t have to ask who _they_ are, and without another word he hangs up the phone.

This was his fight. Not Stan’s. Not Butters’.

He knew where he had to go.

There is a certain emptiness that fills his soul as he submits to the reality of the situation. He can’t allow himself to feel, can’t allow himself to do anything but focus.

He needed a plan.

Standing mechanically, he makes his way over to his dresser and stiffly throws on clothes. Options, pathways, the possible future and ramifications of his every decision weighing down his every thought.

He needed a _fucking_ plan. An excuse. Some way to get Kenny out of this safely without-

His feet stumble and he falls forward, bracing himself on his dresser. Fingers digging into the wood he bows his head and squinches his eyes shut, trying to remember to breathe.

_What will it be, Kyle?_

But even as he finally pushes himself up, numbly grabbing his gun and holstering it against his side, he finds he has no answer.


	7. The Choice

It’s raining.

Raining just like it had been on the day that everything changed. Water pouring down in the distance on the land that remained uncovered by the massive rocky overhang. Flashes of lightning occasionally lighting up the sky, a transition from the darkness of the exceedingly early morning, sunrise still an hour or two away.

Kyle locks the front door behind him, his mother and Ike still sleeping inside which had made for an easy exit. Then he takes a deep breath, feeling the heaviness of the damp air against his skin. The weight of the very atmosphere pressing against him, a fitting addition to the already crushing pressure of uncertainty and fear that lined his every thought.

Whatever happened on this dark and dreary morning, would inevitably change everything once more. A cumulation of things that had been building up, festering, shadowing his every thought, finally turning into one single choice.

_What will it be, Kyle?_

He needed more time. Time to think things through more clearly. To weigh the pros and cons and paths that would lead to some sort of future he’d be able to live with.

But time had run out. Now all he had was the hollow sound of his own footsteps as he made his way along the concrete. The only path that was open to him now. Gaze fixed straight ahead, and every step quick and measured. He’d walked this same path almost every morning for years, knew it as well as he knew the back of his own hand, only this time he had no clue where it would lead when he reached the end.

And, of course, he was right to be wary, because even knowing all that he did, the sight he’s greeted with when at last the tavern comes into his sight isn’t at all what he had expected.

His steps come to an abrupt halt, eyes peering through the darkness to make out the identity of the small form that had come stumbling out of the tavern. It only takes him a moment, the face and form being a familiar inhabitant of the tavern, the one good thing he’d ever encountered in that damned place.

“Karen?”

He says her name subtly, more in reaction to his own confusion and sudden realization then an actual attempt to get her attention, yet despite the distance that separates them her gaze still shoots up to him at the sound of her name. It’s then that he spots the fear in her eyes, bright and unmistakable, a moment before it fades into a mixture of recognition and relief right before she half hurries and half staggers her way over to him.

Kyle’s so baffled by the strange turn of events that he doesn’t even think to move until she stumbles right as she reaches him, and he dives forward and grabs the sides of her arms to steady her before she falls.

“ _Kyle_ ,” she heaves out between breaths before he even has a chance to speak. “They...they sent me to come find you.”

At her words, his grip on her arms tightens just the smallest amount. Her entire body shaking and her breathing heavy as if she’d just run a marathon. He doesn’t have to ask who _they_ are, or why she was sent to find him, but he immediately feels a flood of guilt for Karen having gotten caught in the middle of a tragedy that was of his own making.

“Are you okay?” he asks her, keeping his tone as gentle as he can manage, and after a moment she slowly nods.

“I think so. I mean,” she gives a meaningful glance at her leg, “I don’t think it’s broken or anything.”

And it’s only then he realizes what must have been the cause of her staggering, more guilt rising to the surface as it hits him that she’d not only been hurt, but that it had also probably been on his account. Releasing her hold on her arms, he looks towards the darkening skin of her leg revealed from under her dress that only reached mid-thigh. “Can I?” he asks, and when she nods her approval he kneels down to inspect her injury. Lightly prodding around and checking the swelling where the large and ugly bruise was already starting to form.

“...I’m sorry, Karen,” he says softly as he works. “This is my fault.”

But to his surprise she laughs, the sound holding more bitterness than humor, yet still prompting him to immediately look up at her in surprise. “I mean unless me attacking that asshole was somehow your fault, I’m pretty sure this is on me,” she explains with a small smirk, a certain degree of mischief that he’d never seen from her present, yet somehow ringing with familiarity. “I knew it was dumb, but I couldn’t just stand back and watch them tie up my brother like that. I had to do _something_.”

He freezes.

“...Your brother?” Kyle asks slowly, to which she gives a small nod.

“Yeah,” she says, tone almost inaudibly soft. “Kenny.”

And for a moment all Kyle can do is stare at her. Little things about her face that he’d never really taken note of before suddenly gaining a whole new familiarity. The brightness of her gaze and the kindness and understanding that usually rested there. The slope of her nose and the way that her grin was just a little lopsided whenever she smiled.

She was... _Kenny’s little sister_.

The small girl that Kenny had been dreaming about. The one person he couldn’t quite forget, and who he’d been tirelessly trying to find.

Kyle can’t help but wonder if Kenny had recognized her before she’d been sent out for trying to save him. Still, he doesn’t bring up any of that, after all now was not the time for long discussions. So, instead he says the most simple yet significant thing he can think to ask.

“...You remember him?”

“Kinda hard to forget,” is her answer, and she gives him a tiny lopsided smile before glancing up at the tavern. “I always knew working here would be dangerous...but I had to,” she explains before looking back down at him with a question in her eyes. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” he says honestly. Had their situations been swapped he would have done the same for Ike. Would have done anything to keep himself as informed as possible, even if that anything included working for the very people who were trying to hunt him down. “How is he?”

At his question she allows another small smile to show. “I’m sure he’s been better, but before I decided to jump in he was also feeding them bondage jokes, so I think he’s okay.”

Kyle snorts.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he says softly, more to himself than anything as he glances back down at her leg. “It doesn’t look broken, but you should still get it looked at,” he tells her. Then he finally stands. “Go get yourself to the clinic, I’ll handle things here.”

Yet, she hesitates.

“You care about him,” She says without preamble after a moment’s pause. The words are said as fact, not a question, and the bluntness of the statement catches him off guard. She laughs. “Don’t look so surprised,” she chastises with a small grin, “they wouldn’t set up a trap like this otherwise. Besides, I’ve never seen you this upset.” However, it’s with those words that her smile and good humor finally fall, letting through her true fear and worry. “You’ll save him, won’t you?” She pleads. “I know the laws and I know that’s your dad, but Kyle-“

“Get to the clinic, Karen,” he cuts her off before she can finish. Before he can hear the rest. “Stan’s probably still there, you’ll be safe.”

She slowly nods in understanding, yet before she leaves she takes a step forward, taking his hand and holding it between both her own.

“Please,” she says quietly, voice betraying a faint tremor. “I know you’re better than them.”

And then, without another word, she releases his hand and runs off.

He watches her small form until she turns the corner, vanishing into the dark of the early morning. It’s only then that he turns back towards the tavern, the place as familiar as it was ominous. The place he returned to almost everyday only to find ridicule. Where he was met with judging eyes and mockery.

Where he’d soon be met with the sight of his father.

_What will it be, Kyle?_

Pushing down the haunting words to which he still had no answer, he steels himself and finally crosses the small distance to the tavern.

The door is unlocked, as was expected since it was a well known fact that the tavern itself never closed, not that anyone other than bounty hunters and the staff would ever brave it.

But it’s not the bounty hunters who matter as Kyle walks through the wooden doors. Instead it’s the small hunched-over form tied to the chair in the middle of all them.

_Kenny._

With the way his head’s inclined, he’s not able to see his face. But he definitely looks worse for wear, bruising already coloring the parts of his skin that were showing. Bruising similar to Karen’s. And likely done by the two giant fucks who were still standing above him and saying things that Kyle can’t hear over the sudden roaring in his ears.

The scene before him doesn’t surprise him, but it makes his blood run cold all the same. A chill that quickly turns to an icy barely restrained rage. He wanted to ram his fist into their smug looking faces so badly it was as if it were a physical need.

“Hands off,” he demands through gritted teeth, before he even has the chance to think better if it. His voice echoes loudly off the walls, and in his hand is the familiar form of his gun. He doesn’t even remember taking it from his holster, but he’s glad for its presence anyway. “Touch him one more time and I shoot.”

At the sound of his voice, Kenny immediately raises his head to meet his eyes. But it’s then that Kyle also realizes that he’d been gagged. Fucking typical.

Yet, while he’d expected to see something mirroring relief in his expression, instead all Kyle sees is bright concern and a cross between fear and panic. But Kyle knows Kenny, and it only takes a moment for him to register that the panic and fear wasn’t for Kenny himself.

No, it was for _him_.

And it’s only then that he becomes aware of the sound of footsteps approaching him in the now silent room. Kyle tenses, knowing exactly who it was before he even had a chance to speak.

“You heard him, guys,” the newcomer says, causing Kyle to shrink under the weight of the haunting familiarity of his voice. “You can back off, he’s not going anywhere.” And immediately the men back up, listening like puppets on a string. Behind his shoulder the footsteps come to a stop, _his_ presence resting several paces away yet still managing to loom over him as if he was only a breath away. “Isn’t that right, Kyle?”

“Dad.” To his relief, Kyle’s voice comes out firm despite the faint shaking of his hands. One of which was still holding a gun pointed in the small space between the two guys standing over Kenny.

“Welcome home,” his dad says in that annoyingly calm way of his. Kyle still refuses to turn his gaze away from the two men to look at him, but he imagines he has that smug grin plastered on his face as usual. “Sorry I wasn’t able to stop home yesterday, I was a little busy. As you can probably tell.”

Kyle’s hand tightens on his gun’s grip.

“Let him go,” he grits.

“I can’t just go breaking the law, son,” his father chides, presence moving around him like a slithering serpent until he’s suddenly standing in his line of sight. Not directly in front of his gun, no his father had too much self-preservation for that, but slightly over to the side. “Now, why don’t you put down the gun and we can handle this like adults?”

His aim wavers with the sudden faint trembling of his hand. In truth he doesn’t even know who he’s aiming at anymore, the two bounty hunter bastards having stepped away yet his focus still placed on the spot where they once stood. And directly beneath that empty spot of air were eyes of the most beautiful shade of blue, bright with the sharpest shade of empathy.

“Let him go first,” Kyle says, hoping that no one recognizes the slight tremor in his tone for what it is. The fear. Blind desperation. “He has nothing to do with this.”

 His father gives a faint chuckle.

“On the contrary, I believe he has everything to do with this,” he says flippantly, before his expression turns much more serious. His gaze boring into him with a weight that had always been so impossible to ignore. “Now Kyle, _the gun_.”

Almost without his control he feels himself obeying his father’s command, gun falling back to his side. And with that, Kyle lowers his gaze, suddenly no longer able to meet Kenny’s eyes.

Steps approach him on the old wooden floorboards that he’s now staring so intently at, and the shadow of his father’s form enters his peripheral vision. Gerald holds out his hand, his meaning immediately clear, and without a word Kyle numbly places the gun into his grip, unable to find it in himself to refuse.

Now weaponless, Kyle keeps his gaze tracked on the ground as his father casually inspects the gun, turning it around in his hands as if it was a toy. “I must say Kyle, this is unlike you,” he comments, giving the gun one final look before pocketing it and turning the full force of his gaze back to Kyle. And as he does so, Kyle barely suppresses an instinctual flinch. “When I first saw him I figured I _must_ have been mistaken. But then I had my friends do a little digging and funny enough they found these, right in _your_ pack outside of town.”

 And with that, he suddenly brandishes two very familiar metal sleeves. The sight of them making Kyle’s blood run cold as dark hopelessness begins weaving its way around his every thought. They knew. They all knew. He’d failed and there was nothing he could do about it.

“There must have been a good reason,” his father continues, false casualness still lining his tone. “Care to explain?”

 But Kyle can’t even make himself speak. Instead he just bows his head further, feeling the familiar feeling of shame and defeat under the weight of his father’s obvious disappointment.

“You’re confused, son,” his father tells him. Voice softening to a tone that he hadn’t heard from him in years. Not quite affectionate, but forgiving. Fatherly. Kyle feels more of the fight drain out of him at the sound. “This is exactly what I’ve warned you about, and I admit it was probably partially my fault. I know I haven’t been around as much as I should have. It made you easier to manipulate. But all of this can be forgiven, you know I can be fair. We’ll forget this whole little thing happened, all I ask, is one thing.”

 But just as Kyle feels himself in the edge of believing him, feels himself _wanting_ to believe him because here his father was offering him forgiveness on a silver platter and a chance to go back and be the son he always wanted him to be...he suddenly goes and places a gun in Kyle’s hand.

Kyle stiffens, knowing exactly what this meant as Gerald then curls his fingers around not just a gun, but _his_ gun.

Then, his father slowly guides up his arm, just like he had when Kyle had only been a child and he’d first been teaching him how to aim, and suddenly he finds himself looking at Kenny’s still bright gaze from behind the sights of his father’s gun. No judgment there, just acceptance. Understanding. And way more sympathy then Kyle ever deserved.

“...We’re not supposed to kill cyborgs,” Kyle whispers, nausea curling in his gut as he sends a silent prayer for an easy way out of this.

“Not until they’re questioned,” is his father’s flippant response. “But we’ve already questioned him, have the documents and everything. All that’s left, is this one little step.” Gerald then crosses his arms and leans back, eyes watching him expectantly. “It’s not like you’ve never done it before.”

_No, not him. Anyone but him._

Kyle lowers his gaze, dropping the hand holding the gun to his side.

“...I can’t.”

His voice comes out almost inaudibly soft, his inability, his weakness, broadcasted in the middle of a room filled with people who had always wanted him to fail. The very people he had tried so hard to prove wrong.

“You can’t? And why is that?”

He slowly looks up at Kenny.

And meeting his eyes, he doesn’t have to think hard to find his answer. Every feeling pouring to the surface. Every bit of hopelessness and desperation built up from one small truth, from the very same thing that could be blamed for the flutter in his stomach even now.

That very thing that could be blamed for changing _everything_.

“...I love him,” he says in a near whisper, suddenly feeling like a small kid again as he stares at Kenny’s widening eyes. Finally voicing the one truth he held above all else. The one thing in his life that was his own, and that he knew more than he knew anything.

All the bounty hunters break into laughter. Kenny stares at him with clear sympathy and something that suggested that his heart _ached_ for him. Yet behind every emotion that resulted from this tragedy they found themselves in, there was one that was soft and bright and _real_.

And it’s that emotion that Kyle keeps close to him. Tucks it close to his heart and lets it be his strength as his world continues to crumble in the aftermath of his confession.

“Oh,” is the first word from his father’s mouth the minute that the booming laughter in the room fades enough for him to talk. “I see.” Then he takes a step back, warmth in his expression fading to something much darker. Cold and as cutting as a jagged spear of ice. “Tell me Kyle, just what did this little Cyborg do to trick you into bringing him here?”

Kyle shakes his head.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh really?” He crosses his arms and begins moving, slowly starts to pace around him, eyes boring into Kyle from every angle, his very presence akin to a serpent wrapping around his every thought. “He didn’t flirt with you from the very beginning? Even when you’d just held a gun to his head? He didn’t smile and weave his way into your heart when he should have hated you?” His steps come to a halt, and he shakes his head, the smallest bit of pity breaking through the cold. “He doesn’t really love you, Kyle. You were only being used.”

Kyle shakes his head again.

“You’re wrong,” he says immediately, yet this time his voice wavers despite himself. But Gerald Broflovski was no fool, and he immediately catches it, gaze turning a but more pitying.

“You know I’m right, son,” he says gently, taking a step forward and resting a hand on his shoulder. Warm. Fatherly. “Come on, stop playing games and come home.”

...Home.

His mother always fussing over him every time he came through the door after a mission. Ike laughing from the table as he watched Kyle’s lame attempts to reassure her. And more than that. Stan with his unwavering loyalty, his best friend since he’d been a kid, who’d always been at his side. Butters with his almost motherly concern. And...his father, and what he was offering now.

One final chance to go back. To make amends, beg for forgiveness, and one day be the person that he’d worked his ass off his entire life to become.

...But it was all at a price.

_What will it be, Kyle?_

“...No.” His voice comes out faint, and he’s not even aware that he’d said the words out loud until his father gives him a hard look.

“What?”

Kyle blinks in surprise as realization slowly sets in, and then he straightens his stance. Finding his answer rooted in every part of his being, the part of himself that had been so long buried finally rising to the surface and fighting back.

“ _No_ ,” he says much more loudly this time. Staring his father straight in the eye for the first time in his life, feeling the familiar coil of fear but ignoring it this time. “I won’t hurt him. And I won’t let you hurt him either.”

As if he’d flicked a switch, every ounce of warmth drops from Gerald’s expression. Every nuance of feeling being replaced with an icy detachment.

“Kyle,” he says, tone like cold steel. “You do know what happens to sympathizers, don’t you?”

Yeah, of course he did. _He’d_ been the one who’d ingrained it, him and every book that he’d so tirelessly studied.

“Then _kill_ _me_ ,” is Kyle’s response, said without an ounce of hesitation. “Throw me in a cell or whatever. But don’t ask me to kill him, because I won’t.”

However, in response to his words, his father only shakes his head. “I really hoped I wouldn’t have to do this,” he says before nodding to two of his fellow bounty hunters. “You two, the sleeves.” And instantly at his words two large bounty hunters appear behind him, each taking one of Kenny’s cybernetic sleeves from Gerald’s hands and then walking them over to the tied up blond.

“What are you doing…?” Kyle asks slowly, not having a clue what his father was up to yet almost sick with nervous worry as he knew it couldn’t possibly be anything good.

But his father ignores him. Doesn’t even spare him a glance. And Kyle watches as the two bounty hunters attach the sleeves to Kenny’s still bound arms. Kenny doesn’t fight them, not that he’d really have the liberty to in the first place, yet as he meets Kyle’s eyes it’s clear that he’s as confused as he is.

Of course, it’s then that Gerald finally decides to stop playing silent, and answers Kyle’s question. “If I can’t convince you, then my only option is to show you,” he says vaguely.

Kyle looks to him in question.

“...Show me what?” He asks warily.

And it’s then that his father gives him a smug look, one that spoke volumes and causes dread to immediately fill every cell in his body. A silent dread that only increase as, from out of his pocket, Gerald pulls out a small device Kyle had never seen before.

But one that Kenny seems to immediately recognize.

For as soon as the device is out, there's the sound of his panicked and muffled voice, and when Kyle shoots his gaze over to him it’s only to see him beginning to pull more desperately at his restraints. Eyes shooting up to meet Kyle’s in clear panic.

Yet before Kyle can even formulate another question, his father finally speaks once more.

“To show you what your cyborg really is.”

Then, his men take a step away from Kenny, and Kyle watches as his father presses something on the device.

Immediately, Kyle whips his gaze back to Kenny as his sleeves crackle with a blue electricity. In Kenny’s gaze still sits the same fear and panic, however, this time instead of tugging at his restraints he rips right through them as if they were paper. He stiffly rises to his feet, unnatural and without any of his normal grace, before reaching up and tearing off his gag with a wince. Then, he drops his head and squinches his eyes shut.

“Kyle,” he says, voice sounding pained. “ _Run_.”

And that’s all the warning Kyle gets before he lunges towards him.


	8. Like The Day That We Met

There’s no time to process anything.

Kenny was lunging towards him, cybernetic-sleeved fist drawn back in preparation to strike, and Kyle reacts out of pure instinct, only barely managing to get out of the way in time. Yet in the next moment Kenny turns on his heel with inhuman grace and instantly goes for another blow with his metal-covered fist. A blow that catches the skin of his upper arm despite his best attempt to dodge, and sends Kyle stumbling back.

“Kenny?!” He questions, clutching at the now pulsing skin of his arm, thankfully the opposite of the one that Butters had only just stitched up. But as he meets Kenny’s eyes there’s no malice or even cold detachment, instead there’s only panic and an overwhelming amount of fear.

“I can’t fight it, Kyle,” Kenny grits, slowly approaching him in contrast to the blinding speed of his earlier lunge, but it’s as if he’s fighting himself with every movement. Every slowed step taking monumental effort. “That thing- _shit_. That thing fucks with my programming chip,” he manages in a single breath before he’s suddenly springing towards him once more.

But Kyle’s expecting it this time. Dropping into a roll, he shoots back to his feet on the other side of him. And it’s then that Kyle darts his gaze to Gerald, to the smug asshole who was supposed to be his father.

“Dad, stop this!” He pleads, gaze shooting back to Kenny just in time to barely dodge another hit. Already he could feel his lungs straining with exertion, the speed in which he had to dodge every strike was faster than was necessary for any robot he’d ever fought before. He might have fought a lot of robots in his past, but Kenny was something else entirely. Speed, grace, and agility, paired with the uncontrollable need to kill.

...He was going to _kill_ him.

Kyle knew a losing battle when he saw one, and he could only keep this up for so long. He needed to do _something_.

“Some lessons are harder than others,” he hears his father say in response to his pleading, voice distant over the speed in which thoughts were being tossed around his head. “You know how to put a stop to it.”

A true a statement as any, because for some reason Kyle was aware he still held the grip of his father’s gun in his grasp. Even as he kept backing away from Kenny, retreating despite the fact that his every instinct paired with the hooting and hollering of the surrounding bounty hunters told him to stand his ground and _fight_. But with all that metal and added strength, Kenny’s every punch was enough to break bones, or even kill if they landed correctly, so restraining him with hand to hand combat was out of the question.

Which only left…

Kyle immediately jams the gun into his holster, ducking under what would have been a fatal blow to his head.

Fuck. That.

What he really needed was that fucking remote, or whatever it was. If that device was what was causing this then it was probably the only thing that could put a stop to it all. But his father wouldn’t exactly just hand it over, and Kyle was a little too _occupied_ at the moment to figure out a way to take it from him.

He dives to avoid Kenny’s next lunge, rolling with the momentum and jumping back to his feet on the other side of him, just in time to avoid a blow aimed at his skull.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Kyle heaves.

But although his father and thereby the device was unreachable to him, his father’s voice continues to echo around the room and throughout his head, drowning out even the clamor of the surrounding bounty hunters.

“ _This_ is the cyborg that you claim to love so much,” he pronounces, tone clear and ringing with authority. “They’re not like us, Kyle. _This_ is what your precious cyborg really is.”

Kyle barely avoids another strike. Leaping to the side at the last minute and losing all semblance of grace in the process.

He stumbles.

“A few tweaks to the targeting system and the press of a button!” Gerald continues. “That’s all it takes for it to turn against you.”

Thrown off rhythm, Kyle can do nothing as Kenny rushes towards him. A faint pull of static filling the air and the compartments of his glove glowing fluorescent blue.

“ _This_ is what I’ve been warning you of.”

Kenny punches him, a blow that was likely meant for his heart instead landing on his shoulder, and an electric current travels with it, leaving Kyle stunned and gritting his teeth from the pain. He stumbles back on shaking legs until he hits the wall and gasps for air against it, distantly aware of Kenny closing in on him.

“They’re mistakes that never should have been created.” Gerald’s voice cuts through the hollow ringing in his ears, even despite all Kyle’s effort to block him out. Guess some things never changed. “Eliminating them is doing the world a favor.”

He looks up at Kenny’s form suddenly standing directly in front of him, eyes anguished and arm raised for another strike. Yet before it has a chance to land Kenny grunts and his fist veers off course, slamming into the wall beside Kyle’s head.

“Kyle, come on,” he heaves, every breath coming out in a strained pant. “ _Fight back_.”

“No,” he immediately grits out through clenched teeth, fighting the last of the ringing and the static. “No,” he repeats, regaining control of his limbs enough to slump forward, glaring up at Kenny through the few sweat heavy curls that fall in front of his face. “I _won’t_ fight you.”

A laugh bubbles up Kenny’s throat, dark and humorless. From the corner of his vision he can see the arm still held against the wall start to tremble. “Must you always be so damn stubborn?” He mutters, tone breathy with effort. His eyes snap shut and the muscles in his jaw visibly clench. “ _Shit_ , duck.”

Kyle dives down, and a fist crashes into the wall where his skull had been not a second prior. He falls into another roll, but this time when he lands on his feet he stumbles.

Every part of him was exhausted. Limbs trembling with the sole effort of standing, and yet he half leaps half staggers to the side to avoid yet another strike.

Kenny whips around just as quickly as he had before, and Kyle braces himself for the hit only to watch Kenny stumble on his own feet right when he should have lunged. He had to have been just as exhausted as Kyle, if not more, and yet somehow he was still fighting it. Fighting against his own robotic nature, his own damn programming, with a wild abandon.

But it was taking its toll.

“Kyle, I can’t…” he heaves, head bowed and whole body shaking. Then he looks up and meets his eyes, tormented and pleading blue finding his own. “ _Kill me_. It’s the only-”

“Shut the hell up,” Kyle stops him with a growl, everything around him growing too loud. Too much. He’s not even sure if the words are meant for his father, the bounty hunters continuing with their damn cheering, or Kenny and his fucking stupid death wish. “Don’t you _dare_ ask me to do that.”

Kenny’s only answer is a pained noise before he’s once again lunging forward. Kyle evades the best that he can, a sharp and jerky movement that no longer holds fluidity or grace.

And that’s the pattern they follow. A teetering and desperate dance that neither want to participate in. Puppets on a string.

An act followed by one constant echoing voice. One that wouldn’t leave him alone, not even now.

“ _Don’t you see, Kyle_?”

Their dance continues. A full stage performance. Orator and audience included.

That is, until one performer finally trips up.

“ _They’re dangerous_.”

A misplaced step. An attempted dodge that comes just a little too late. A futile effort at best.

“ _Inhuman_.”

Kenny’s metal fist collides with Kyle’s shoulder and sends him flying back towards the wall. And once the dance is broken, there’s no going back.

“ _Monsters_.”

Another blow sends a wave of dizziness as this time his head smacks against the wall. Against his side his hand brushes against his gun, but he refuses to grab hold of it. His limbs feel like lead, pain radiating throughout his body to the point that he can no longer determine the source, and it takes all of his energy just to remain standing. Dodging anything at this point was out of the question.

Which only left one option.

“Kyle _please_ ,” Kenny begs, allowing Kyle a breath of reprieve as he trembles with the effort of holding back his arm. One last plea. A final chance for Kyle to make a choice. Who will live and who will die?

_Kill me._

“ _No_.”

Kyle doesn’t hesitate. Not for a second.

There’s a sound that might be a sob that gets drowned out by the ringing in his ears as the force of another strike sends his entire body thumping back into the wall.

A familiar static fills the air.

He watches as Kenny’s hand slowly rises above his head, clear electricity running through the glove. Fatal probably.

He meets Kenny’s eyes. So much pain, torment, and pure anguish. But underneath there was something else, sitting right under the surface. Something soft and warm and _beautiful_.

Something that causes Kenny to freeze, limbs shaking as if it was taking all of his effort to stop his body from moving on his own. He was already exhausted from his earlier efforts, breaths coming out in heaving pants, yet he was still trying.

But he wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. Seconds maybe? No time to escape.

So, this was it then.

_For what it’s worth, I don’t regret anything that happened between us._

It’s what Kyle wants to tell him. The words a permanent fixture on his tongue and buried within every inch of his soul. Because even if every step taken with Kenny at his side was only ever leading to this one moment, was only ever leading to his death, their moments spent together were still the best memories of his life. The only ones where he truly felt alive. Felt _free_.

It’s what he wants to tell him, but he never gets that chance.

Because in that next moment he watches as Kenny’s eyes go wide, body freezing up completely. And Kyle follows his gaze down, follows his line of sight only to see the point of a blade sticking through Kenny’s chest.

The world freezes.

For the faintest moment, Kenny looks back up at him. Shock clear within the blue of his gaze, overshadowed with something that might be _relief_.

And then he falls.

Kyle chokes on a silent scream and throws himself forward to catch him, sinking down onto the floor along with him and settling him on his lap. The blade had cut a hole straight through his chest, and even as Kyle throws a hand over it to try and stop the bleeding he knows it’s useless. Bright red blood continuing to flow through his fingers and past his hand with alarming speed.

_Someone couldn’t lose this much blood._

“Do you understand now?” His father says from somewhere ten thousand miles away. In another world, maybe. Distant despite the fact Kyle could see his feet right in front of them. He hadn’t even seen him approach. “It’s better this way.”

Kyle hardly hears him.

With shaking fingers he brushes back Kenny’s hair. He can’t do anything. He’s useless. Fucking _useless_. One thing, one thing in his whole damn life he wanted to save and he couldn’t even do that.

“ _Kenny_ ,” he chokes. “Kenny, _please_ , don’t you do this. Don’t you do this to me.”

So he begs. And he pleads. And he prays to whatever god might be up there even though he sure as hell has never helped him before.

He just _can’t_ lose him.

“Ky I...I have to-” Kenny’s faint voice abruptly cuts out and he gives a violent series of coughs, blood splattering the ground below by the time he finishes. The whole thing only lasts a few agonizing seconds but when it’s over and he tries to speak again, Kyle immediately shushes him.

“Shh...don’t talk,” he soothes, smoothing back his hair. But blind panic makes his hand tremble as he does so. Time. they were running out of time. He needed to- “Is anyone going to get the fucking doctor?!” he calls, looking back at the faceless forms of the dozen or so bounty hunters who had the nerve to be doing fucking _nothing_. And of course they had no reason to help him, this was what they wanted after all. But if they for _once_ , in their damn useless lives, could only-

A hand grabs his.

Fingers intertwining with his own, now heavy and caked with blood. The hand that had futility continued to cover the wound.

And he allows Kenny to gently pull it away.

He looks back down at him, and as he does Kenny gives his hand a faint squeeze. His face was growing more pale by the moment, right at the edge of death’s door. Seconds, moments away from leaving him for good. Yet his eyes…

...They were as bright and as clear as the day he’d met him.

And they spoke volumes.

With a low keening sound, Kyle slumps further over his body, protecting him from the view of all the useless onlookers. And it’s then that he submits.

Submits completely to the fact that he’s going to lose him.

Guess he really couldn’t save anyone after all.

“This is all my fault,” he laments, tone wavering and tears starting to cloud his vision. His free hand continues to brush through Kenny’s hair as the other one still tightly clutches at his hand. “I’m so sorry,” he tells him, voice breaking as he apologizes for letting down the only person who ever truly mattered. The one thing he’s realized just a little too late. “I promised I’d keep you safe and I failed…I failed you.”

Slowly, Kenny moves their connected hands until they rest directly over his heart.

There’s a slight shake of his head.

A faint ghost of a smile.

And then his eyes slip shut and Kyle feels it as his heart gives one last final beat.

For a few moments all is still. The world around them meaningless as he watches a tear fall onto the now motionless body that had once held so much life. Then, with the highest amount of care, Kyle tugs Kenny a bit closer on his lap and clutches at him. Gaze fixed blankly on his face, as if a part of him was still wondering if somehow he might wake up.

Yet, Kyle doesn’t sob. Doesn’t cry, wail, or scream.

He can’t even feel anger. Not at himself, not at the men surrounding him, and not even at his father.

Instead, it’s as if something deep within him has broken. Something that leaves him numb and unable to feel anything but a soul-crushing emptiness.

He’d been _useless_.

He’d _failed_ him.

He hears the unmistakable sound of his father’s footsteps approaching him, he must have apparently walked away during Kenny’s final moments. But Kyle doesn’t move. Doesn’t look up. Doesn’t care. Not anymore.

Yet before they reach him or his father has a chance to say anything, the door to the tavern swings open and his approach immediately comes to a halt.

Then, distantly, Kyle’s aware of a flood of footsteps entering the door. Heavy as if armored, with the overarching bark of several commands, one voice almost as familiar as his own. Stan. Stan and several other guards. Yet the sound is of no comfort, in fact there was still a chance that he’d be taken away and jailed anyway after all of this. Not that it mattered.

It was probably what he deserved anyway.

Next comes the sound of a high pitched and broken scream. A voice that he also recognizes despite the distressed quality, still unforgettable from all those long nights spent talking at the bar.

Karen.

She must have been the one who led them all to the tavern. She’d somehow managed to get help after all.

Too bad it was too late.

A part of him wants to immediately get up and throw accusations. To find hope in the fact that Stan was now here, that Karen had managed to convince him and the others to come here. Wants to find a way to take out what pain and anger sat simmering just under the wall of numbness on everyone around him. On every useless bystander...and on his father. _No_ , not his father. He was only one thing to him now, and he desperately wants to finally call him out for all that he is.

 _Murderer_.

But he can’t.

Kyle himself had been the one dumb enough to follow in his footsteps all these years anyway. That made him just as guilty, didn’t it? Made him into just as much of a monster. Just as irredeemable.

...Kenny never seemed to think so.

But he was gone now.

Kyle’s fault, of course. Kenny would still be alive if he’d never taken that stupid bounty.

Not like he could make himself move anyway. So, instead, he stays right where he is as everything goes on around him. Around _them_. Just continuing to stroke Kenny’s hair numbly.

“Sorry guys but you just missed the action,” he hears Gerald say, normal smug nonchalance in his tone. “No worries, the cyborg threat has been eliminated. Took care of it myself.”

Kyle harshly clutches at the fabric of Kenny’s clothes, but he stays silent.

 _Monster_.

There’s a pause, the guards likely evaluating the scene before them. Kyle on the floor cradling a limp and blood-soaked body, and dozens of bounty hunters surrounding them like it’d been one big stage performance.

The final act of the night.

“...Kyle?” Kyle slowly looks up to see Stan peering at him a bit warily, clear concern in his gaze. “Kyle, what happened?”

“Ask him,” Kyle immediately replies with a stiff gesture towards Gerald, voice sounding hollow even to his own ears. “He took control of Kenny with some kind of device. Then he killed him.”

Stan’s gaze narrows, and he looks towards Gerald with clear accusation in his eyes. Yet, predictably, Gerald only scoffs.

“Oh please,” he says flippantly. “The cyborg was attacking him so I stepped in to save my son. It’s nothing so dramatic.” He turns towards his fellow bounty hunters. “Isn’t that right, guys?”

But not a single one of them replies.

Instead, they all seem to teeter between casting uneasy glances towards Stan, and then to the guards backing him up towards the door. One of those guards happening to hold a sobbing Karen in his arms, clear murder in his eyes. It hits Kyle then that Karen had mentioned having a brother in the guard...Kevin was it? Could that be him? And if so did that make him Kenny’s…

Kyle quickly looks away from them, guilt eating away at every space where the emptiness couldn’t reach.

After a few more beats pass in a heavy and semi-awkward silence, Gerald finally turns back towards Stan. And for the first time in his life, Kyle notices that he looks a little shaken; although, it’s only for a flicker of a second before he seems to shake it off and regains his casual expression.

Stan however, isn’t so quick to let it go.

“Hand it over, Broflovski.” He says, using that authoritative tone that Kyle had never really heard from him before. Sometimes he honestly forgot that Stan really was good at his job, he’d just never really gotten the chance to see him in action. A shame it had to come at a time like this. “Or should we bring out the scanners?”

His tone even seems to catch Gerald a bit off guard. The man immediately reaching into his pocket even as he mutters, “You’re all overreacting,” as if he’s still personally offended by the whole ordeal. And the moment the terrible device is once again revealed to the world, Stan plucks it from his hands and takes it gingerly into his own. He glances at it for a moment, brows furrowing, before he presses a button or two and then flicks his gaze back towards Gerald with a no-nonsense expression.

“And hand over your weapon while you’re at it,” he demands, holding out his empty hand.

“This is ridiculous,” Gerald sneers, yet once again complies. Pulling off the holster of his murderous blade from his belt and passing it over to Stan’s outstretched grip. Once it’s in his hold, Stan passes it off to another guard that steps forward to take it, before returning his focus to the small electronic device in his hand. Turning it a few times, he inspects it with a curious expression until his lips tilt into a frown.

“What is it, Stan?” The guard still holding onto Karen asks.

“I...I don’t know,” Stan says slowly, pressing a few things on the screen which only seems to cause the furrow in his brow to deepen. “...It looks like some sort of master control interface, but I’ve never seen one like it before.” He looks up at Gerald. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s a prototype,” Gerald answers immediately, not at all ashamed. If anything he sounds almost _proud_. “One of a kind. It was a gift from a client of mine.”

“A _client_ gave you this?” Stan asks, mirroring Kyle’s own thoughts. His grip loosening on Kenny a marginal amount as he pays closer attention to the scene happening around him.

“Yeah, he was a scientist.” Gerald shrugs and crosses his arms. “I was defending his case, he was short on money, and so we made a deal.”

If Kyle still had the capacity to feel anything else in this fucking shitfest of a day, he would have been stunned. Completely thrown off of kilter. Because if Gerald was talking about clients and cases, that meant he was referring to when he was still a lawyer, _years_ ago.

And that could only mean that...

“...Defending his case?” Stan’s eyes go wide as he quickly comes to the same conclusion that Kyle had. “You’re talking about _before_ the Rebellion.”

“Yeah,” Gerald gives another shrug, as if somehow still completely unaware of the incriminating nature of this confession. Had his lawyer days really been that long passed? “So what of it? I don’t see how that makes a difference.”

“Actually it makes a big difference,” Stan quickly corrects, gaze narrowing. “And since you were a lawyer during the beginnings of the Robotic Rights Movement, I’d think you would know that the knowledge of something like this existing could have sparked a _revolt_.”

More than a revolt. After all, the very existence of a device like this was the ultimate betrayal of trust. Of freedom.

...It could have sparked the whole damn Rebellion.

“Are you _accusing_ me of something?” Gerald snaps back, instantly on the defensive. “I’ll have you know that no one knew about it except for me and my client.”

“...Kenny knew.” Kyle says faintly, voice holding none of its usual strength. Yet all at once, he feels every pair of eyes in the room turn towards him. “He recognized it as soon as he saw it.”

“Is that right?” Stan asks, turning back to Gerald with a hard look. “Care to explain that?”

“I don’t need to explain anything, these are all baseless accusations,” he spits back. Shoulders tensing, he faces Stan’s own gaze head-on, and lowers his voice to a tone that could only ever be considered a threat. “And I’d watch my mouth if I were you, Stanley.”

Stan stiffens, but he doesn’t back down. “Gerald Broflovski,” he says slowly, voice stern and filled with authority. “I’m placing you under arrest.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth Gerald reels back. “ _What!_?” he demands in an outcry. “And for what charge? You have no evidence!”

But Stan hardly even spares him a nuance of attention, instead gesturing to a few guards who immediately move forward, closing in on Gerald with weapons drawn and handcuffs in hand. However, as soon as he’s done with his orders, he turns back to Gerald and shakes his head. “Not for that,” he tells him, tone just as stern and unyielding as before. “You’ll be questioned about that later.” Then he gives a weighted pause, glancing back at Kyle and the body still held tightly in his arms. Gerald follows his gaze, even as the cuffs spark to life around his wrists. “You’re under arrest for the reactivation of an inactive cyborg unit,” Stan finishes, tone just a tinge softer.

“You can’t be serious. He was-“

“Human.” Stan shoots back at him with a fire that manages to alight a bit of warmth in Kyle’s chest, even through the aching numbness. “He was _human_. At least until you activated his software. I’ve got a doctor’s statement, and the recorded vitals to prove it. As well as Karen here who not only claims to remember him, but also shares his DNA.” He pauses then, letting his words resound around the suddenly deathly silent room. “He was the same as any of us,” Stan finishes, bookending his statement and unflinchingly meeting the eyes of several guards and bounty hunters in the process.

That bit of warmth returns in Kyle’s chest full force, although it’s fleeting. If only Kenny could still be here to see this.

But of course, the quiet moment lingering in the aftermath of that world-altering statement is predictably broken by Gerald, the man darting his gaze around as if they’d all just gone crazy.

“This is treason!” He claims, all desperation and bewilderment. “Have you all lost your minds?!”

But Stan only glares, crossing his arms in front of him. “Would you like me to add refusal of arrest to your list?” He threatens. “Or how about murder?” Then with another somber glance towards Kyle he adds, “I might tack that one on anyway.”

Yet, even then Gerald still doesn’t give up. Pride and stubbornness both Broflovski traits that didn’t die easily.

“You guys saw what happened!” He says, shooting a half-crazed look at his bounty hunters, his friends. “Can’t you talk some sense into these idiots?”

But not a single one of them steps forward. Instead they watch silently as their once friend and colleague continues to get led away by guards.

“Kyle!” Gerald turns his gaze towards him, his son. A last desperate plea to the person he raised in his shadow. “Come on, you know this is ridiculous. _Tell_ them.“

Kyle meets his eyes, fingers digging into the fabric of Kenny’s clothes.

He’d taken _everything_ from him.

“Go to hell,” he tells him.

That finally seems to shut Gerald up, face going pale and all fight finally draining from him. His shoulders droop and he doesn’t say another word as he gets escorted the rest of the way out of the tavern.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Kyle becomes aware of Stan making his way over to him. Steps slow and a bit unsure, in sharp contrast to the power and confidence he’d just displayed. And then once he reaches him it’s only to hesitate, as if he’s not really sure what to say. A few beats pass between them before Kyle decides to break the silence himself, saying the first thing on his mind.

“Do you want to know what the worst part is?” He asks softly without looking away from Kenny. “Deep down I always knew it would end like this, I just didn’t want to believe it.”

There’s another pause. Then, a hand lands comfortingly on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Kyle.”

“Not your fault,” Kyle assures him with a shake of his head. The fault was his own after all. “I’m going to stay with him, Stan.” Looking up, Kyle makes eye contact with him for the first time since he’d gotten there, a bold display of the immovable nature of his decision. He knew Stan would want him to go with him, to get away from this whole scene, but that just wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t leave Kenny. “Can you get everyone to leave me alone for a while?”

And for a moment Kyle’s afraid that Stan’s about to argue, but then his best friend deflates with a large exhale of breath. “...Yeah,” he says, tone quiet. “Sure thing, dude. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks.”

Stan nods, yet for a moment after that, he lingers. Pausing as if there was still something he wanted to say; however, he must think better of it because the next thing Kyle knows he’s walking away towards the bounty hunters still loitering around in the tavern.

As to what Stan tells them, Kyle really can’t say. But likely all the bounty hunters were a little on edge after seeing the 'best of them' get arrested, a fact proven by the speed in which they exit the building. Listening to whatever Stan had said without a single complaint, despite their usual disdain for authority.

All give Kyle a wide berth as they leave, but he can feel their stares. Not that he gives a shit. Let them think what they want. Let them judge. None of them mattered.

A few guards linger after they’re gone, the guard standing with Karen included. Kyle doesn’t miss the way that both his and Karen’s gazes keep shooting to him and Kenny; however, after Stan makes his way over to them and says a few words they soon also step out after the bounty hunters.

Stan is the last to leave. Hesitating just as he had before, as if he wants to say something, before he once again seems to think better of it and follows the rest out.

And then Kyle’s left alone.

He’s not sure how long he sits there. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours, but eventually a bit of rationality cuts through the numbness. A sudden thought that reminds him of the world that he lived in. Of the future that was bound to catch up with him one way or another. After all, Stan’s speech wouldn’t change the world in one day, as inspiring as it was. And even if they all really could see Kenny as human, there was still the possibility that some _wouldn’t_ and...

They didn’t give cyborgs burials.

Kenny deserved one. A good one. And Kyle was the only one who could do that for him.

It’s that fact that finally spurs him into action. Securing his arms more tightly around Kenny, Kyle slowly stands on shaky legs. The stitches on his arm pull with the added weight, and his body screams with a hundred other pains, all relics of a battle where there had been no victor. On top of that sits the exhaustion, heavy and impossible to ignore in the way that his arms and legs feel as if they’re made of lead.

But he ignores all of that. He’d live. And right now he had more important things to worry about.

“Well, I finally get to carry you, huh?” He says with a ghost of a smile, readjusting his hold on Kenny. “Have to say, you’re heavier than you look. You sure you’re not made of metal in there? ...Sorry, bad joke,” He corrects with a slight grimace as he begins making his way towards the door. “I know. I’ve never been that great with humor, not like you. Well, I guess you know that. Or well...knew.” Reaching the door he gives a sigh and with a bit of effort he manages to shoulder it open. “And well, I guess now I’m just talking to myself like a crazy person.”

After that he doesn’t really talk anymore. Just resigns himself to his own thoughts and silent vigil as he makes his way through the empty streets. The sky above still a cloudy grey, only just starting to light up with the faint beginnings of sunrise.

He doesn’t have to think hard about where he’d take Kenny. The second he even considers it a memory comes shooting to the surface, one from only a few days ago although it felt a lot more like a lifetime had passed.

And in his mind’s eye he recollects that brief moment, the one spent by the river after they’d just spent their first night together. The moment that had been the first to chip away at his walls.

The moment when he had first realized that Kenny was unlike anyone he had ever met.

There had always been so much energy and life to him. A light that couldn’t be extinguished. Gaze focused across the river, towards a seemingly impossible dream that had survived despite the horrible situation he had found himself in. Simple, but important enough for him to share it with the bounty hunter beside him who had up until that point been nothing but cruel to him.

_“I always wanted to get over there,” he admits, tone soft and somewhat melancholy. For a moment dropping all flirtatious bravado, and showing something real hidden beneath. “River was always a bit too wide.”_

It wouldn’t be an easy thing to navigate his way back there. But…it’s what he would have wanted.

The seconds and minutes blend into each other as he walks. Time becomes something that doesn’t really exist anymore, not between the spaces that teetered between hollow emptiness and the gut-clenching feeling he gets every time he glances at Kenny’s pallid face.

He has but one goal. And it is with that and the power of his determination to do this one last act for him that drives Kyle’s feet forward. That makes him take step, after step, after _step_ , when all he wants to do is curl up on the ground and mourn all he has lost.

And it’s for that same reason that his steps come to a halt as quickly as they do. Logic shadowing all mindless goals and possibilities as the gate comes into view, the sight of it cutting through the cloudy haze of his mind. In a motion born more of instinct than thought, Kyle promptly ducks out of sight and takes shelter behind the nearby wall of a building.

They wouldn’t let him through the gates, not while taking away the _evidence_ of a crime scene. And he didn’t have his jetpack, and he couldn’t exactly just stop home to get it, so he wouldn’t have even been able to-

He leans back against the wall, taking a moment to breathe before he slowly slides down it, bringing Kenny along with him to the ground.

“I guess I can’t even do this for you, huh?” He chokes, lowering his head in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

And distantly he’s well aware that he was never one to give up so easily. That he’d usually fight tooth and claw to figure out some way to make things work out.

But he was tired. Exhausted. And all his plans usually just ended up making things worse anyway.

Better that he just stay here.

They’d find him eventually. Once the darkness of the sky turned to light and people started emerging from their homes. In all probability he’d be arrested, maybe worse if he was found like this. Kenny’s lifeless body still in his arms. People would all draw their own conclusions, none of them understanding anything. And like it or not, sympathizing with robots was probably still a crime punishable by death. Not really much Stan could do to get him out of that.

But he was _tired_.

So, without even bothering to move, Kyle just sits back and watches the sunrise. The sky slowly turning from dark to a lighter gray, shades of pinks and oranges beginning to streak color on the horizon. It was beautiful in a way, he only wished that-

His thoughts are cut off by a noise that breaks though the morning silence. A sound that was very reminiscent of a steep inhale of breath. Unexpected and somewhat startling especially considering the direction it was coming from.

But he stops himself from looking down. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t-

“Kyle!” Kenny shoots up with a panicked gasp. Spotting him he immediately turns and holds his face in his hands. “Oh thank god. Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?!” He strokes his cheek with his thumb. “Come on, talk to me, darlin’.”

But Kyle is frozen. Terrified that if he were to move he’d somehow break the illusion. Dark feelings lingering in his every cell, and a part of him wholly disbelieving that Kenny could be here looking at him, yet...yet another part of him can’t find the answer as to why that is. There’s a certain haziness where he knows the answer should be, heartbreak and pain covering every one of those spaces. But throughout all of it, he remembers loneliness. Only one thing clear enough to voice in his mind.

“...You were gone.”

Kenny wraps his arms around his neck and nuzzles his cheek against Kyle’s. Warmth and affection in his every movement. “Not anymore,” he whispers. Then he pulls back a bit, just enough to take in the buildings around them and the orange and pink painted sky. “Hey, why are we out here anyway?”

“I was…” Kyle trails off, trying his best to remember. He’d confronted his father, watched him get escorted out, and then Kyle had stayed behind because he wanted to get Kenny out of there. No...that wasn’t right. “ _No_ , I needed to…” There was pain. Heartbreak. Emptiness. He had failed and it had been his responsibility to get Kenny to… _Oh_. His eyes grow wide with his sudden realization. “...The _river_.”

Kenny stares at him in clear confusion when he doesn’t say anything more. His blue eyes as bright as ever. The rising sun emerging from behind him making him glow with a reverent beauty, even as his lips tilt downwards into a small frown.

“The... _oh_ you suicidal _dumbass_ ,” he reprimands as understanding finally seems to dawn on his features. He gives him a look filled with disapproval and a little exasperation, but there’s also something else there. Something as soft as it is fond. “Remind me to be mad at you for this later.”

But Kyle can only shake his head. Still trying to wrap his mind around what his memory had just supplied him with. An impossibility considering the circumstances, but one that tore painfully at his insides with a familiarity that was impossible to ignore.

“Kenny, you were _dead_.”

For a moment Kenny seems struck speechless. Eyes widening slightly, and lips parting as if he’d intended to speak only to find that he couldn’t find the words.

And what Kyle had just said does seem pretty silly in hindsight, people didn’t just come back from the dead after all. Maybe he misread his pulse, his hands had been shaking so it could have been possible. Maybe Kenny had just passed out and he’d mistaken it for something far worse. The entire scene is somewhat of a blur in his mind, a haze with nothing other than panic and an awful aching pain that tore a hole through his own heart.

But then, slowly, Kenny’s expression softens, like the sun suddenly breaking from beyond the clouds. Lips tilting into one of the most beautiful and endearing smiles Kyle had ever seen. Startling real and full of an overwhelming adoration that steals the breath from his lungs.

“I told you, I’m hard to kill,” Kenny tells him softly, before breaking out in breathy laughter. “Hey, don’t look at me like that.” He leans in closer, brushing his lips against the corner of Kyle’s own and retreating before Kyle gets the chance to deepen it. “I can explain later in more detail if you want, but for now can we just call it a miracle? I can even feed you some line like, I don’t know…” he grins then, mischief and light mixed into one little lopsided tilt of the lips. “...’l hope you like angels because I dropped from heaven just to find you’.”

Kyle blinks.

It was a recollection of the first time they’d ever met. A testament to not only how far they’d come, but also to the fact that they were here. That they were _both_ here.

And funny enough, _that’s_ when it fully hits him.

That’s when he breaks.

With a low keening sound he’s not at all proud of, Kyle throws his arms around Kenny and buries his face in his shoulder. “This is all my fault,” he chokes, tears finally flowing forth as if a dam had just collapsed. One that might have been standing tall since he was a kid. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh...don’t talk like that, Ky.” Kenny shushes him, taking him into his arms in turn and nuzzling into his hair. “I’m okay, and none of this is your fault.”

Kyle just clutches him closer. “All I wanted was to save you,” he whimpers, voice breaking.

“You did.” Kenny pulls back to look at him, only briefly, to meet his eyes with a fond little smile. “In more ways than one.”

Then he’s back in his arms again, tightening his hold, and Kyle can only cling to him as violent and broken sobs wrack his body.

He cries for a lot of things. For Kenny and the still all-consuming fear that he might lose him. The very possibility that he might still fail him in the end. For himself and everything he’d kept bottled up inside for so long. The guilt. The truth that haunted him in every pitying look from his younger self, piercing in every nightmare. He cries for every life that he took, every bounty that was callously taken without a second thought. And lastly he cries for his father, or at least the man he used to be. For the man that was smiling in that picture on his nightstand, an arm wrapped around his mother and their robot Chef standing at his side.

And the whole time Kenny just holds him. A warm and comforting presence that grips him like a lifeline in the same way that Kyle’s clutching at him.

And with him, slowly the pieces start to knit back together.


	9. Epilogue (Freedom)

_-Three Months Later-_

In Kyle’s hands sits a picture.

It’s the same one that had sat at his bedside for far too long. The one that spoke of possibilities and a vision of things that he’d endlessly been reaching for. A return to the past, and to a time when things had been better. His father with an arm wrapped his mother, Chef standing by his side. A reflection of a dream that someday things could somehow once again be the same.

Yet what he’d mistaken for blind hope had been something else entirely. He’d been trapped. Terrified of the future and stuck longingly looking back towards the past. A past that maybe he could have changed if he’d only been stronger. One that was as laced with guilt as it was regret, and where he was endlessly fighting to make his father proud because it was the only hope he really had left.

But in the place where there once only sat that familiar ghost, he instead finds the voice of another. A voice that always brings forth the memory of eyes as blue as the sky, and soft words filled only with forgiveness.

_It’s not your fault._

And although Kyle still can’t quite believe it, there’s a part of him that’s been mended that _wants_ to believe differently. Having been broken down to its base and then pieced back together like an old frayed puzzle. And although he’s secretly terrified of the prospect of everything once again breaking apart at the seams, deep down he knows that with Kenny by his side, he’d be strong enough to make it through regardless.

There was just one thing he needed to do first.

Placing the picture into a box, he puts on the lid and then carefully slides it under his bed. Pausing only a moment to stretch before grabbing his pack and gun and heading out from his room and down the stairs.

His mom’s typing away on her laptop when he enters the living room, notebook open and a stack of old copies of government records pushed to the side. Her hair’s in a state of disarray, and there is the faint presence of shadows under her eyes as a badge of honor from many sleepless nights. Yet, there’s also a quiet fire in her expression, a certain determination in the way that her fingers fly across her keyboard without pause. It’s a degree of passion he hadn’t seen from her since his early childhood, and once again he feels a burst of pride for her.

He’d have been lying if he said he hadn’t been afraid of her reaction after she’d heard what had happened at the tavern that night. Yet, when it came down to it, he really should have expected that Sheila Broflovski would always put her children before anything else in the world. Sometimes he forgot how much she really did care.

So, after meeting Kenny and hearing his story, listening to all the injustice that people like him had suffered, particularly at the hand of her own husband, she’d immediately voiced her support of her son and welcomed his boyfriend in with open arms. Going as far as to speak publicly for both cyborgs and robots in respect to the rights that they should have, as well as doing some extra digging on her husband and helping Stan out with his case against him.

As it turned out, she’d been holding her tongue against her husband for a long time, staying quiet because she’d at least thought he was being a decent father to her boys. But after what Gerald did to Kyle, it was as if every bit of repressed anger had shot to the surface, and Kyle couldn’t be happier that his mom seemed to have gotten her fire back after keeping it under reigns for so many years.

He hadn’t even realized how much he had missed seeing it.

Kyle steps further into the living room, and as he does so his mom finally looks up and gives him a smile.

“All ready to go, bubbe?” She asks him, to which he nods.

“Yeah, you sure you’re going to be able to finish your letter without us?”

“Don’t you worry about me,” she answers, voice strong despite the obvious exhaustion lining her shoulders. “I’ve gotten more than enough info from your father’s notes alone. Besides, you and Kenny have given me more than enough to work with. You boys just go have fun. Give yourselves a break from all this.”

And although he’s well aware that he _should_ probably stay and help her, he’d be lying if he claimed he hadn’t been looking forward to this trip for far too long. Of course, his mom was also very aware of that. Stubborn woman. But he wasn’t exactly about to argue either.

He’s about to thank her when Ike walks out of the kitchen, a bag of chips in hand.

“Yeah, but you’d better bring your boyfriend back,” Ike says, throwing back a handful of chips. “He’s supposed to help me with my cloning device,” he continues with his mouth full. “That interface thing he has is useful as shit.”

“Ike, language,” his mother sighs.

And Kyle can’t stop his lips from pulling up into a small smile. All this time he’d thought that by choosing Kenny he’d be losing his family, but that hadn’t been true at all. Not one bit.

“We’ll both be back in a week or so,” he promises them. Keeping the sudden warm feeling close to his heart and pulling his pack a little more firmly on his shoulders. Ike gives him a disinterested wave in response before heading back towards his room, and his mom gives him a nod and another smile.

“Be careful, bubbe.”

“I will,” he tells her, and heads toward the front door.

The air that hits him once he’s outside is warm and pleasant. A perfectly sunny morning. Shutting the door behind him, Kyle begins his walk to the tavern. A path he knows as well as the back of his hand. Only, unlike many times before, he doesn’t only focus his gaze ahead. Instead he locks eyes with a few familiar faces. A woman who was a regular at the cafe that Kenny loved bids him good morning, and one of the vendors from the marketplace who Kenny always said hello to greets him with a smile. Things were the same, and yet they were different. _Better_.

Along the way, Kyle’s eyes can’t help but drift to a familiar alleyway. Visions of a sunrise and a heartbeat furiously beating against his in a way he’d feared he’d never experience again.

As it turned out, no one remembered Kenny getting stabbed. _He’d just been knocked out_ , as the story goes. Blunt force trauma. An action that had brought an end to Gerald Broflovski’s reactivation of his software, the very thing that had led to Gerald’s arrest and the discovery of the device that earned him his life imprisonment. But as easy as it would be to believe them, Kyle couldn’t let himself to forget the pure anguish he’d felt that night. Not that, or the blood staining his hands and the limp body held in his arms.

Still, it’s something he’s never brought up to Kenny since. Not yet, at least. Instead he filters it to the back of his mind and adds it to the great list of mysteries surrounding Kenny McCormick.

 _McCormick_.

He smiles to himself.

Not everyone got to have their happy ending, especially not when it was dependent on nothing more than a faded memory of a girl in a dream, one that despite everything couldn’t be forgotten. But the McCormick siblings had never given up, not one of them, and in the end the three of them had finally been reunited.

There’d been tears, of course. And a slight uneasiness in Kenny’s expression when his memories didn’t come flooding back like he might have hoped. But after so many years of solitude out on the open road, he finally had a family again. A family who accepted every part of him; cybernetic parts, missing memories and all, as if he’d never been gone.

It was more than anyone could have hoped for, and Kyle couldn’t have been happier for him.

Eventually he reaches the familiar sight of the tavern where his steps finally come to a stop.

The outside still looked much the same as always. Same slightly intimidating appearance that fills him with the same resulting trepidation as it always has. It’d been a while since he stood here, not since that dreading early morning with a girl who had run up to him with pleading eyes and an injured leg. And although he knows that, at least on the inside, things have vastly changed, he still has to take a deep breath before he finally allows himself to cross the threshold and walk through the door.

Inside he’s greeted with the sound of soft murmuring and the sight of several patrons, ordinary civilians that once wouldn’t have dared to enter the tavern that the bounty hunters had claimed as their hangout. Now, the place was a lot quieter. More relaxing.

A few bounty hunters still lingered about, looking a lot like normal civilians as they talked and laughed among themselves at a few tables further in. But whatever clique had formed among them had been broken the day that Gerald Broflovski was arrested. Now the remnants of them seemed to be on their best behavior, as if still waiting in fear that they too might be escorted to prison in the light of Gerald’s treachery and the resulting inevitable winds of change on the horizon. Nowadays keeping busy by going out to the wilderness and taking bounties on animals and other dangers lurking outside the walls, as well as merely _capturing_ dangerous robots, with their days of murder brought to a sudden and abrupt end.

And as Kyle heads further in, from behind the counter a familiar face smiles back at him. A little startling, not having seen her in Skeeter’s place since she’d gotten her promotion, but her smile is still just as warm and welcoming as ever.

“Hey, Kyle,” Karen greets him once he reaches her. “Been a while since I’ve seen you in here.”

“Yeah,” he says, offering a small apologetic smile for his absence. “I’ve been busy.”

But if she’d been hurt at all by his lack of visiting her, she doesn’t show it. Instead she only gives him a knowing smirk. “Believe me, I know,” she says, leaning forward on the counter. “So, I’m assuming you didn’t just stop in to say hi, what did you need?”

Kyle straightens with a small frown. He thought that she’d known, if she didn’t...then that could pose at least a small problem. At least in theory.

“I’m going to need the coordinates of every known cyborg.”

Yet the moment the words leave his mouth, realization suddenly dawns on her features, tinged only with a bit of surprise and a small bit of apprehension.

Kyle understood. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy, it was a monumental step in the right direction after all, but it also meant that her brother would be leaving for the first time since she’d gotten him back.

“Oh right, that’s today isn’t it?” She says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she turns towards her computer. “They’re really letting you do this, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kyle says, softening his tone. “We won’t be forcing them to come back, and even if they do agree to come with us they’ll have to be put under watch for a while like Kenny has been. But even if they’re only allowing cyborgs for now, it’s a step in the right direction.” He smiles, that now familiar spark of hope once again weaving its way around his insides. “We’re finally giving them a chance to come home.”

“I’m glad,” she says softly, a bit of light returning to her expression as she types away. Kyle watches her work for a few moments before he finally allows himself to ask the most important question on his mind.

“How is he by the way? Kenny I mean.”

Karen instantly shoots him a look, a single brow arched in his direction.

“What, since you saw him _yesterday_?”

And while that was true, that wasn’t exactly what Kyle was trying to get at. Sure Kenny acted like he was fine, but Kyle had pretty stressed lately and it was hard to tell if Kenny was only trying to be strong around him. It was just another worry Kyle had added to his list.

“You know what I mean,” he tells Karen, hoping that she really would tell him the truth. “Honestly.”

Yet despite his serious tone, she just shakes her head and lets out a small laugh.

“Stir crazy,” she voices immediately, turning back to her work on her computer. “Kevin and I try to keep him entertained, and we’ve been doing our best to help with his memories and everything, but you can’t just take someone like Kenny who explored the world for years and then suddenly tell him he can’t go anywhere without a glorified babysitter.” She pauses, hands stilling on the keyboard for a moment as she turns to look him in the eye, expression a bit softer yet filled with meaning. “This trip will be good for him.”

Yeah, it would. For both him and Kenny.

“I know,” he answers, tone soft, as she resumes her work. “And I’m going to try talking to Stan about it again. I’m as tired of all this as he is.”

Karen releases a quiet giggle of laughter.

“I’m sure you are,” she says, voice full of amusement. “Not exactly a date with a third party, now is it?” He gives her a look and she lets out another laugh. “I’m only kidding,” she tells him, although her smile doesn’t fall. Pressing a few final clicks on her keyboard she finally fully turns herself back towards him. “Okay, everything’s downloaded onto your tracker. Good luck, and bring my brother back safe, you hear? I’ll kick your ass otherwise.”

Despite her words, her tone is filled with her usual good humor and Kyle laughs, although he doesn’t dare doubt what she’d said for a minute. It’s simply not something he’d ever have to worry about, not while he was still breathing at least, Kenny’s strange resurrection powers being a factor or not.

“Will do,” he tells her, pushing away from the counter. “Thanks Karen.”

And with that, he’s making his way towards the exit of the tavern. Stepping out once again into the warm morning air, and closing the door behind him.

Onto his next place of business then.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he once again begins walking. This too a path that he’s traveled often, one that he knows perfectly well.

It’s a relatively short walk, in fact it’s almost funny how close the bounty hunters had kept their base of operations to the main guard station. Perhaps it had been on purpose, another way the bounty hunters could scoff at the town’s central authority. Kyle wouldn’t put it past them.

As usual, the guard stationed at the front of the place lets Kyle though without a problem, not exactly a surprise since he was more known around these parts now than he ever was before. And when he walks through the doors he’s greeted by a vaguely familiar guard sitting behind the front desk and Kyle makes his way over to him.

“Hey, is Stan around?” He asks, ignoring pleasantries and getting straight to the point.

However, the guard doesn’t even get a chance to answer. Since, as if on cue, in the next moment, a door at the end of the room opens and a very familiar black head of hair steps out.

“Oh, hey Kyle,” Stan says, tone tinged slightly with surprise as he spots him standing there. Glancing down at his guard interface on his wrist he lets out a curse. “Shit, I didn’t realize how late it was,” he says a bit sheepishly as he crosses the room to meet him. “There’s just a few small things I need to get done and then we can go.”

But Kyle shakes his head.

“That’s okay,” Kyle starts slowly, knowing Stan wouldn’t be happy with what he was planning to do here. Not that he could blame him. After all, it was the very thing even he himself had been dreading for the past few months. “There’s actually something I wanted to do first.”

Something that he _had_ to do.

It was only way he could ever make his way towards forgiveness. Towards freedom. Moving on.

_It’s not your fault._

Kyle looks towards the hall leading to the cells. Even through the quiet determination ringing through his veins, he still finds himself unable to voice it. But luckily, Stan follows his gaze and what he’s intending to do instantly clicks with him.

“Kyle, I don’t think-“

But Kyle can’t even let him finish.

“I need to, Stan,” he tells him. Pleading. Meeting his eyes and begging him to understand.

It’s not that he wants to, but he _has_ to.

Stan hesitates for another moment, searching his eyes and looking about as uneasy about it as Kyle felt. But Stan had longed learned that saying no when Kyle had his heart set on something got him nowhere, and sure enough a second later he lets out a long breath and concedes.

“Okay,” he says to Kyle’s immediate relief. “And I know I said I had a few things to do but-“

“No that’s okay,” Kyle cuts him off with a shake of his head and a small thankful smile. Looking towards the door that would lead him to the prison wing, Kyle feels his muscles stiffen in trepidation and his gaze narrows. “You go finish up what you need to. This is something I need to do myself.”

His eyes remain locked on the door, as if the inanimate structure itself was his own secret enemy and not what sat waiting for him beyond it. He feels Stan’s eyes on him, never leaving his face, and after a moment he releases another sigh of defeat.

“David will bring you down,” Stan says with a nod to the guard sitting behind the front desk who immediately stands and makes his way over to them. They exchange a few quiet words that Kyle doesn’t quite catch, before Stan turns to exit. But as he goes to pass Kyle, he pauses to lay a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, dude,” he tells him.

Then Stan exits the room and Kyle’s left alone with the unfamiliar guard, _David_ apparently.

“Ready to go?” David asks him, trying for what is likely supposed to be a reassuring smile. Kyle might not be aware of how much this guy knew, but apparently he knew _enough_. Or at the very least had the sense needed to read a room.

Kyle gives a single firm nod in answer.

And with that David proceeds across the room and through the door with Kyle following at his heels, the heavy metal structure swinging closed behind them with a heavy click. Final and resolute.

They walk together in silence until they reach the last door down the long hall and David suddenly comes to a stop. Kyle’s gaze gets caught on the very familiar name hanging on the door, a heaviness and sudden nervousness making him want to pace, or punch something, or do _anything_.

He wished Kenny was here.

Numbly, Kyle watches as David unlocks the door and opens it, revealing a dimly lit room with nothing but a plan table and two chairs, and the bars of a single cell lining the far side of the room.

“You going to be okay on your own?”

Without looking away from room’s interior, Kyle slowly nods. “Yeah,” he says, tone a bit quieter then he’d intended.

“Okay.” And with that David takes a step away from the door, giving Kyle room to step through. “I’ll be right outside of you need me.”

“Thank you.” He gives the guard a nod and a polite smile, then steps through the door before he can think better of it and lose his nerve. It was now or never, no turning back.

Inside, the room is even more dark and dreary then it had appeared from a distance. There are no windows, and the dark walls themselves seem to absorb any brightness from the already dim fluorescent lights overhead. The air is suffocating, and Kyle can feel his panic increase, his hands beginning to shake and breaths starting to become rapid and shallow.

He _really_ wished Kenny was here.

He couldn’t do this. This was a mistake, he never should have-

“Kyle.”

Every muscle freezes up.

And slowly he turns towards the voice, peering back into the face of his tormenter himself standing behind the bars. Looking the exact same as he did before his imprisonment, same intimidating posture, same unreadable expression.

Gerald Broflovski.

But more than that, his _father_. As much as he’d tried to pretend otherwise in the three months since that fateful night, denying that fact would only be evading the truth. And Kyle was tired of lying to himself all the time.

“Dad.”

Yet, as if he hadn’t spoken at all, his father only continues looking at him without saying a word. Likely waiting for an explanation as to why he was there.

Under that stare Kyle can’t help but cringe back a little, but still, ultimately he stands firm.

He’d come here with a purpose, now wasn’t the time to still be cowering like a dumb kid. He’d come here with something to say, and he was going to fucking say it.

“You know,” Kyle starts, voice relatively quiet yet managing to reverberate off the closed in walls, loud in the deafening silence of the room. “I thought that there were so many things I’d want to ask you. About all the things that you did and why you did them. To your own family. To _me_. But I recently realized that I don’t care. I wouldn’t trust a word you’d say to me anyway, not anymore.”

He looks away from his father to gaze at a spot on the wall, taking a deep steadying breath, and then he continues speaking. Not allowing a chance for his dad to cut in, and not allowing a chance for his nerve to be lost. He’d always been one to overthink things, but once he starts the words become easier. Getting lost in the sway of finally confronting his own personal demon, his ghost.

“Mom said I shouldn’t do this. That I should just be thankful that Kenny’s still with me and move on. But I can’t move on, not really. Not until I say one last thing.”

“Kyle-”

“No,” Kyle immediately interrupts him turning back towards him with fire in his gaze. Every bit of fear being replaced by anger. Built up over a lifetime, and left simmering for months. This man, his _father_ , had tried to take _everything_ from him. “You’re not allowed to talk. Not now. Now, this is _my_ turn.”

And to his credit, Gerald shuts up. Expression still as unreadable, but listening in silence as Kyle continues.

“You know, you tried so hard to turn me into a murderer by calling them monsters,” Kyle tells him, strength in his tone masking a slight waver. “But that ‘monster’ that you tried to take from me was the _person_ who reminded me what it felt like to be human.”

And as it turns out, those seem to be the words that spark a reaction. Nothing big, nothing world altering, but just the slightest change in Gerald’s expression. Something that would’ve been easily missed if Kyle hadn’t been trying to read his father for most of his life. But for a brief moment, he sees _regret_. Regret for what, he’s not sure, and he’d probably never find out because in the next second it’s gone, replaced once again by calm indifference. A mask his father always wore well.

Kyle shakes his head and takes a step back.

“Goodbye, dad,” he says. “You probably won’t see me again.”

And that’s the last thing he says to him before Kyle finally turns away from his father, and makes his first steps towards freedom.

***

“Wait, you’ve managed to convince him to do what?!”

Kyle’s steps come to a sudden halt in light of the unexpected words he’d just heard from his best friend’s mouth.

Stan walks several paces further down the street before he realizes Kyle is no longer following, and he turns back to him with a sigh; although, the hint of a smile betrays his amusement.

“It’s just like I said dude,” he says with a shrug. “I knew he wouldn’t let me end Kenny’s probation early, but the captain didn’t have a problem with letting the two of you go on this trip alone. Now would you come on already? We’re already running late as it is.”

Kyle finally gets his brain to function enough to allow him to walk again, but he can still scarcely believe it. Stan was supposed to go on this trip with him and Kenny, but although he loved Stan, constantly having a guard assigned as a glorified babysitter was really doing a number on his and Kenny’s...physical relationship. As in you could probably cut the sexual tension between them with a damn knife, or at least that’s how it felt sometimes. But now…

Kyle shakes his head and grins, almost tempted to throw his arms around Stan and hug him.

“Stan, _thank you_.”

“It’s not a big deal dude, you guys are gonna be outside of city limits anyway.” He shrugs again, clearly aiming for nonchalance about the whole thing. But Kyle knew he’d owe his friend a lot for this. “And believe me, it was mostly for selfish reasons.”

Kyle smirks, playfully shoving his shoulder against his.

“What, you afraid of the big _scary_ wilderness?”

“No,” Stan immediately deadpans. “It’s just that I can’t stand being the third wheel as you two eye fuck and pretend not to grope each other right in front of me.”

Kyle shoves him again.

“We’re not _that_ bad.”

But Stan only gives him a look that suggests they _really_ are. “Just...promise me you guys will at least try to work it out of your system?” He asks before pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan. “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I even just said that. This is your fault, I can’t deal with another three months of this shit.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Kyle says with a roll of his eyes, to which Stan lets out another long exhale. But he’s saved from having to answer as the McCormick household finally comes into sight. Small, not grand or fancy by any means and definitely rough around the edges, but it had a certain charm to it. Homey and clearly patched together with a certain degree of care.

And to them, it _was_ home. Had been for as long as they could remember, for Kevin and Karen at least.

It was the house that all three of the McCormick children had been raised in. Growing up together until one blond-headed eight-year-old boy with a heart of gold had willingly offered to be a test subject for cybernetic technology in return for royalties paid back to his struggling family. One brave and selfless boy, gone willingly, just like that. Never to be seen again.

Well, until now, of course.

Or at least that’s how Kevin remembers it. Kenny’s memory, on the other hand, still hadn’t fully returned and it would be too much to hope that it ever really would. Then there was Karen who was too young at the time to remember anything besides the existence of a brother she could never forget, and their parents were no longer around to provide any details. As to what had happened to them, Kyle didn’t really know since the siblings never brought them up, but it was clearly a sensitive subject and Kyle respected their privacy enough not to push the issue.

Stan and Kyle cross what little distance remains between them and the front door in silence. And once there, Stan’s the one who knocks while Kyle hovers beside him.

It’s Kevin who answers. He gives Kyle a nod in greeting then looks to Stan with a half grin. “So, finally here to relieve me of guard duty?”

But before Stan can even get the chance to answer, he’s interrupted by another voice.

“Kyle!”

Kyle barely has time to react before Kenny darts past Kevin and slams into him, knocking the breath from his lungs with a small _oof_ , and wrapping his arms around Kyle’s middle, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck. Releasing a breathy laugh, Kyle steadies them and settles his arms around his upper back so his fingers can weave through and play with his hair. Kenny only mirrors his light laughter and cuddles himself closer.

Distantly, through the quickening of his heartbeat and the swell of warmth and happiness circling his chest, he hears a collective groan from both Kevin and Stan.

“They literally just saw each other yesterday,” Stan deadpans, to which Kevin scoffs.

“You act like you’re surprised. They pretty much do this every time.”

Kenny places a lingering kiss on the side of his neck, nipping slightly with his teeth, and the feeling immediately alights Kyle’s every nerve ending in flame. Then he’s suddenly pulling away, eyes bright and lips quirked into a coy little smile. Kyle’s about to drag him back in before he’s interrupted by the sound of someone exaggeratedly clearing their throat and they both turn to see Kevin staring at them with his arms crossed, while Stan pinches the bridge of his nose at his side.

“Alright well go on, get outta here, lovebirds,” Kevin says, giving them a shooing motion although his face betrays his amusement. “And try not to get yourselves killed, I’ll be very upset with you if ya do.”

Kenny gives a firm nod and practically beams at his brother.

“Got it, Kev.”

***

They break the good news to Kenny during their walk to the gate. The morning having faded to a pleasant and bright afternoon, and the faint breeze catching the wisps of Kenny’s hair as he grins. Kyle shoots him a halfhearted glare when he feels a hand brush against his ass not a moment later, a shameless wink all he gets in response. But in truth, the rocky overhang above them could suddenly fall down and even then Kyle doubts he’d even have it in himself to be angry. Because here he was, walking between his best friend and the boy who meant the world to him, feeling more relaxed and free then he has in years.

It’s a whole new day. On his way to a whole new adventure. And there’s a buzz of excitement underneath his skin, a testament to how he’s finally ready to start living.

As they walk. Stan updates Kenny a bit on the case he and Sheila have been working on against Gerald, knowing he’d want to know before he even gets a chance to ask. They’re all things Kyle’s well aware of, most of it trivial things that might be relevant and yet might not be. His father had always been a good lawyer, and that reflected in all his notes from that time. Painstaking steps to keep things rather vague in places they needed specifics, and names left out or referred to only by initials. He’d clearly been involved in _something_ shady, but his actual role in the start of the Rebellion was as uncertain as the night they’d arrested him. Kenny had confirmed that the device was the leading cause of the initial revolt, but even he couldn’t draw a solid connection to Gerald having ownership of it at that time.

So for now, all they could do was keep searching. And in the meantime, slowly start making amends to the robots they’d once believed had attacked them without cause.

Deep down, Kyle had always known he’d been right.

They’d only ever wanted to be free.

But as Stan prattles on, he doesn’t once mention that Kyle had seen Gerald, to which Kyle is extremely grateful. It was Kyle’s own story to tell, and he’d tell it eventually. On the road maybe. But for now, he’d rather leave it as a discussion for a later time.

And before they know it, the main gate is in sight.

Without conscious effort Kyle finds his gaze drawn to the top of the wall, something almost nostalgic twirling through his chest. He smiles softly. It’d been too long since he and Stan had talked up there like they used to. Almost every day he’d visit him, for years. His one look at freedom from beside the person who understood him best, a reprieve from the rest of the world.

So much had changed since those days.

Stan stops a small distance away from the gates and turns to the two of them. “You guys wait here,” he tells them. “They should know already, but in case they don’t I’m going to go give them the Captain's new orders.”

Both him and Kenny nod their agreement, and then they watch as Stan vanishes into the guard station.

For several beats they stand there together. Him and Kenny standing close enough together that their shoulders consistently brush, just as they had their entire walk here. Kenny shoots him a bright and hopeful little grin, before returning to looking around the checkpoint a little uneasily. And that made sense. This place had only ever meant danger to Kenny, guns and devices meant to discover and eliminate his kind.

But this was also part of Kyle’s home. Part of his life, his past. And it really wasn’t so bad. Once again he finds his eyes drawn to the top of the wall, and his fingers twitch.

Making a split second decision, he grabs Kenny’s hand and tugs.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

Kenny looks at him in surprise for a moment, before that surprise melts into something much warmer. He nods. “Well, then lead the way.”

There’s something unmistakably mischievous in his smile, and that’s all the surety Kyle needs before he’s turning and leading Kenny up a familiar path. Through a doorway, up a staircase, and then finally through one final archway until they’re standing at the top of the wall.

“Are we even supposed to be up here?” Kenny asks a bit warily, not exactly surprising considering here Kyle was leading a cyborg up on top of the guard tower. But for some reason, he feels no fear nor worry. It’s an odd sort of peace, one that he’s not used to.

He turns to look at Kenny with a reassuring grin.

“Not exactly. But don’t worry, you have me.”

Kenny scoffs. “I’ve heard that one before,” he mutters, as Kyle once again starts walking. Tugging Kenny behind him until they reach the edge of the wall, stone built up waist-high to prevent people from falling. From there he looks off in the distance, taking in the wide open world that had called to him all his life. Endless soot and damned volcano included.

“I used to come up here almost every day,” he admits softly. There’s a lull of silence, a quiet melancholy, and then Kenny gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

And when Kyle turns to look at him his breath catches.

Kyle had never really believed in angels. Maybe he did at one point, but then that belief had died with a lot of other things in his life. Hope. Faith. The belief that there could be anyone watching over him when his life just kept taking turn after turn for the worst. And well, maybe there were no winged people with golden halos watching out for him, but something out there had brought him Kenny. Selfless, forgiving, radiant, _beautiful_ , Kenny. And somehow he alone had shown him the way forward after being lost for so long.

And that had to have meant _something_.

“I love you,” Kyle blurts. And before Kenny can say a word he powers on. “I know I said it before and I know it wasn’t under the best circumstances, but it was true. And I wanted to say thank you.”

Kenny blinks in surprise before his lips tilt into a soft smile. “I don’t think it’s really a secret that I feel the same,” he says fondly, leaning some of his weight into Kyle’s shoulder. “But what are you thanking me for?”

“A lot of things,” Kyle responds instantly, shifting his gaze back to the vast horizon. “For not giving up on me and showing me things could be different,” he shrugs, casual and without an ounce of tension. “It’s funny, I’d been so determined to save you, yet in the end you were the one who ended up saving me.”

Beside him, Kenny makes a noise that sounds like quiet laughter.

“Didn’t we go over this already?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to have a moment,” Kyle responds, shooting him a look, and causing Kenny to giggle for real this time.

“Yeah, yeah, and those moments are all in the past. We’ve got the _future_ , Kyle.” He throws an arm around his shoulder and tugs him in so that the sides of their cheeks are pressed flush against each other. “And we made it here _together_.” Pulling away so that he can look Kyle in the eye, he winks. “The cyborg with a great ass and his great captor who couldn’t keep his eyes off it.”

For a second, Kyle can only stare.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of _your_ ass?”

“Yep. Like when we were in the forest and you were like, _hey hot-stuff why don’t you walk your fine-ass in front of me for a while?_ ” Kenny mocks before giving a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “And I mean, I couldn’t exactly _refuse_ a request like that.”

“That is _not_ how it happened.”

He gives another shrug, this one paired with a mischievous little grin. “So, I stretched the truth a little. Stan seemed to believe it pretty quickly.”

“That’s what you told Stan!?” Kyle exclaims, horrified. “And he _believed_ you!?”

“What?” Kenny pouts. “You don’t think my ass is great?”

“That’s not even- _Oh my god_. What else did you tell him!?”

“Only a few things.”

“ _Kenny_.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Kenny says, grinning brightly and wrapping an arm around Kyle’s waist so he could lean comfortably into his side. “While we’re out looking for those cyborgs, why don’t we just recreate it? The _right_ way this time. Maybe make some... _modifications_. You know, to the amount of near-death experiences, self-questioning, and  _of course_  sleeping arrangements.” Giving Kyle a coy look through his eyelashes he wastes no time brushing his hand against Kyle’s ass for the second time that day.

Kyle arches a brow at his suggestion, but can’t hide his obvious interest.

“I’m going to regret saying yes, aren’t I?”

“Don’t worry so much,” Kenny answers with an amused look and a shake of his head. “Everything will be fine.”

And for a moment Kyle pauses, because he’d heard those same words from Kenny before. Dating back from that first night back in town, and then numerous times since then, but only now with his newfound freedom and the peace of the afternoon air does it finally take on new meaning.

Fueled by a sudden overwhelming euphoria, Kyle suddenly pulls Kenny in and kisses him. Slow and lingering. Tongue slipping through parted lips and leisurely exploring and getting reacquainted with the familiar and addictive taste of him. And when Kyle at last pulls back they’re both panting for breath. They lean their foreheads against each other, both unwilling to fully part just yet.

“I know,” Kyle finally answers Kenny’s statement once he trusts himself to speak again.

And for the first time in his life, he can believe it’s true. Everything _would_ be fine. They made it this far, didn’t they?

Kenny smiles brilliantly, leaning in to peck his lips once more before pulling away.

“What do you say we continue this on the road?” He suggests, and Kyle can’t help but smirk.

“In a hurry?”

“Can you blame me for being a little excited?” Kenny laughs a bit breathlessly, and no, Kyle really couldn’t blame him. He felt it too, after all.

It was a little like a whole new beginning.

“So come on, _oh great captor_ ,” Kenny grins, tugging him back towards the stairs. “Let’s go see what’s on the other side of that river.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we've finally reached the end :)
> 
> I just want to take a moment to thank every single person who drew art, commented, or left kudos on this little story. I couldn't have done this with all your wonderful support. This is the first full-length fic I've ever finished and it's been a wonderful ride, my dudes. Honestly, thank you<3

**Author's Note:**

> This was primarily inspired by Townycod13's k2challenge18. 
> 
> Also, this fic has gotten fanart and I'm so thankful. They're amazing and please go check them out by using the tag I'm going to start using from now on. Seriously, thank you so much to everyone who drew something for this. You guys are more inspiring then I can even put into words<3  
> https://panacea-for-all-evil.tumblr.com/tagged/WeCalledfictag


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